


Mercy (Five Times & Once)

by sashach



Series: Five Times & Once [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, English translation, Hurt/Comfort, Kings crossover, M/M, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 08:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6147451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sashach/pseuds/sashach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cruise ship AU in which five times Bucky and Steve were together and one time they weren't. Kings crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Imbrian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imbrian/gifts).
  * A translation of [Mercy (Five Times & Once)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661125) by [Imbrian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imbrian/pseuds/Imbrian). 



> This. This is the fic that got me into translating the series. All the kudos to [Imbrian](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Imbrian/pseuds/Imbrian) for writing this series.
> 
> Commas and periods are where they should be thanks to [Echo](http://explodingcrenelation.tumblr.com).

If he admitted defeat to Pierce so easily, James told himself, then all the suffering he had endured over the past seven years would be in vain.

Sitting across the table was the daughter of some rich family. An obvious set up. He tried his best to indulge her with the most affectionate smile he could muster, but under the table his hands were twisting tightly onto a spotless white napkin. No, he wouldn't marry the only daughter of some partner of a private equity fund for Pierce’s personal gain; nor would he be in a relationship with the woman whose father owned the largest cruise ship enterprise in Asia. To those people, James Barnes may have been a puppet manipulated by Alexander Pierce, but one day he would take back the entire Barnes Enterprise.

One day.

Yet deep inside his heart, he knew with certainty the day would never come.

James tilted his head and drained the glass of wine. Sour and tasteless.

The best strategy to avoid these clingy little rich girls was to get drunk. No one would take the rudeness of a drunk seriously anyway.

When he was lightheaded with alcohol, James pushed down the urge to get sick and fixed a smile on his face—even crying would look better than that—and excused himself from the table. Pulling off his bow tie, he walked to the sunroom to take a breather. The room was closed for the day, there was no one to see him.

The North Atlantic air was freezing cold, and the night was dark. Without light pollution, the only shining object in the endlessly vast ocean was the cruise ship he was standing on. It was like a lone island on the move. It was his prison.

The hem of his tailcoat flapped in the wind. A whistling symphony in the night. James didn't have any appetite; alcohol was the only thing he’d consumed for the entire dinner.

As if on cue, his head chose that moment to ache uncontrollably, as though it had been split open by an axe from inside. Damn that disgusting wine.

James sat on one of the long benches on the deck, held his head, and curled himself up. Images of Alexander Pierce’s treachery ran through his mind: the betrayal of his father causing the death of his mother, and sending his younger brother and sister to boarding school. Pierce had let James succeeded his father so that he could put a leash around his neck for easier control. He had forced James to sign the approval papers for the resignation of the company’s senior executives. He had forced him to sell the stocks that were under the Barnes’ name and let Hydra, an investment fund, take possession of forty percent of the company’s stocks, while Pierce owned ten percent. That was how the Barneses had lost the operation rights to the enterprise.

James, on the other hand, was placed as a figurehead. If he refused to be Pierce’s pet, he would lose his reputation and social status entirely.

But as a pet, he would lead everyone onto a sinking ship and they would all perish together.

He leaned against the railing and couldn’t stop coughing. The nausea was giving him cramps. Except for sour bile, there was nothing left in his stomach.

Just like his heart. Empty. Hollow.

A handkerchief patterned with deep blue and light blue checkers appeared before him. “Are you all right, sir?”

James lifted his head and saw the owner of the handkerchief. The man was wearing a jacket and a pair of jeans. He wasn’t in formal attire, which meant he wasn’t invited by the captain to attend this evening’s dinner party, which meant he wasn’t a passenger from the penthouse suites. More importantly, it meant—another bout of intense cramps sent James dry heaving, forcing tears from his eyes, some of which might have betrayed his sadness; but he was good, he didn’t need pity from anyone, and this man didn’t belong to that circle—which meant he wasn’t one of those people who were eager to see James in ruins.

By virtue of his upbringing and disposition, James thanked the man and accepted the handkerchief. He wiped his eyes and lips then he folded the material neatly before pocketing it.

He raised his gaze to the man, who was standing in front of the lights, his body silhouetted by the brightness behind him. “I’ll wash it clean and return it to you.”

The man nodded and stooped down so that James could see him on an equal level. “Are you really okay?”

James offered him a reluctant smirk. “I’m fine. Just had a few glasses of terrible wine, that’s all.”

It could have been his imagination, but he thought the man frowned with disagreement; but he remained silent and extended his hand to help James tug his slightly opened tailcoat and shirt collar tighter.

This cruise ship travelled from Boston to London via Reykjavik every year, stretching from early summer to late fall. Iceland in September was unforgivingly cold.

The man took off his jacket and pulled it over James’ shoulders. “You can return it to me tomorrow when you’re sober. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t have a jacket on now. ‘S not good to have a fever on a ship.”

James wanted to reject the man, but his temples were starting to throb again and he couldn’t open his mouth to speak a complete sentence. Standing in the cold wind, he felt the man’s lingering warmth in the jacket and he only wanted to hold on to it tighter. “How do I…?”

“I’ll find you.” The man stood up and patted James’ shoulder a couple of times. “Come to the observatory when you’re free. I’m always there every afternoon. I’ll see you when you come over.”

James noticed a watch on the wrist of the hand that was patting his shoulder. His head was swimming, but he could still distinguish the cracks on the watch strap even under the dim lights.

He really wasn’t from their circle.

He watched the man’s back diminish as he walked away. James Benjamin Barnes wrapped his arms around himself and stood up, swaying and unbalanced. Trembling in the shadows, he leaned against the wall.

That man was unlike those animals inside parading around in human skin. 

James found the entrance to the cabin and pushed down the door bar and went down to the penthouse suites.

He was “invited” to stay in the most extravagant Crystal Suite on the Symphony. After disembarking the cruise liner, he would be sent on board the Serenade, the Nocturne, the Sonata, and many other cruise liners. To say he was on board to welcome all the passengers as head of the Barnes family was a glorified way of putting it. The truth was: he was in exile, kept as far away as possible with no chance of going to shore.

The penthouse butler opened the door to his room immediately upon seeing James. Instead of letting the butler follow him into the room, James waved his hand motioning the man to wait outside for his orders.

He put the jacket on a hanger, walked quickly to the bathroom, plopped himself on the floor, and started to dry heave, holding onto the toilet bowl. It was more agonizing than before. 

Only this time, nausea had nothing to do with the tears streaming down his face. 

X

It was already past noon by the time James woke up. His dress shirt and pants were crumpled and he couldn’t find his bow tie in the room. He’d probably left it in the sunroom. Oh well, he had more than fifty of those.

He went to the bathroom and saw how dreadful and sallow he looked. He couldn’t seem to wash away the traces of defeat etched on him, no matter how much water he splashed on his face. He lived like a puppet. Alive but dead.

James peeled off all his clothes and left them on the bathroom floor. He stepped into the shower and cleaned himself with cold water.

Rivulets of water gushed down, streaming from the bridge of his nose, across his collarbone, down his abdominal muscles.

When he turned eighteen, aside from studying, James had spent most of his time partying with other rich kids like him. But sometimes when he wanted to be alone, he would go to his grandparents’ house in Bar Harbor. Everyday he would walk down the main street leisurely and he could see the cruise ships that belonged to the Barneses docked in the harbor. He would imagine, years ago, his father had come to Bar Harbor to inspect a new route on behalf of his grandfather and walked into a little handmade jewelry shop on the main street where he met James’ mother, whose dream was to become a jewelry designer.

The first year James started working at Barnes Enterprise, those carefree days came to a sudden halt.

His father was framed and sentenced to prison, the company’s stock price plummeted, Pierce intervened in the operation of the company, the condition of his mother’s mental illness deteriorated, and James couldn’t take care of his younger brother and sister. Pierce abused his ignorance and trust and took away the family’s stocks from him; James failed to differentiate good from evil. Faithful, competent senior employees—who were willing to assist him, but couldn’t prevail against Pierce’s despicable measures—were eventually let go or resigned. James’ participation in a drug party was exposed by a tabloid. His mother killed herself by jumping off the roof of the hospital. The board of directors decided not to trust him and turned him into a mere figurehead; and the last blow was delivered by his trusted attorney, Zola, who suggested selling the company to Pierce. That was how he fell.

The warning of his father was still fresh in his memory.

Pierce needed the sprawling organization of the Barnes’ company to launder illicit funds he had gotten under the table into legitimate accounts. Pierce needed another scapegoat to go to jail for him should his deeds be exposed one day. So he kept James around. The future star that was once featured in Forbes was now a papillon owned by Pierce for others’ entertainment.

James was filled with hatred, but he was trapped in a luxurious cruise liner, helpless and incapacitated. There was no one whom he could trust. In the eyes of an onlooker, he was living a dream: he didn’t have to lift a finger, he had people at his disposal, he drank champagne like water, he led a life of extravagance and comfort. Little did they know that on more than one occasion when he felt like all hope had abandoned him, he wanted to jump from the deck into the Atlantic Ocean.

It would have been better to die than live as he was now.

James still had his younger brother and sister. They were still in Switzerland. If Pierce didn’t put them on board the ship during school vacations, he would hardly see them at all. Every time he thought of ending his life, James was fearful that Pierce would force one of them to be the next puppet.

For the sake of his younger siblings, James couldn’t run away. But the truth was: he had no substantial fortune in his name ready for use, and the people around him worked for Pierce. Even without Jasper and Margaret to worry about, there was no way he could escape.

James changed into a lilac colored shirt and a pair of dark blue pants. The perfectly tailored cut flattered his godlike figure. From his reflection in the mirror, only his lifeless eyes betrayed the broken soul within him.

Taking a glance at the jacket, he had no memory of the face of its owner. He couldn’t send someone to return it on his behalf without knowing to whom it belonged. James put on his trench coat and hugged the jacket in his arms. A little bit of the stranger’s warmth from last night seemed to have returned. Lowering his head, James took a good look at the navy blue jacket.

In his excruciatingly pounding head, he only remembered telling himself: this man was unlike those animals.

This man would not want to see him being hunted and devoured by pain.

He also remembered the man’s tattered watch.

James glanced at the watch he’d put on automatically. It was a classic Chopard. Silver exterior with a dark brown strap. His mother had given it to him when he turned twenty. Rose had given him a lot of presents, but not all of them were of memorable significance. The watch was an example of her impulse gifting. His initials, J.B.B., were not engraved on the back, which meant she could have given it to anyone.

Everything that had anything to do with his mother was now another source of pain.

James couldn’t decide if he should keep the watch on or take it off. Eventually he chose to ignore it. Instead he held the jacket a little tighter and left his suite.

X

James armed himself with an icy expression the moment he stepped out of his suite. He nodded politely to strangers when they recognized him. The upper deck wasn't far from where he was staying. It was just a walk up the stairs. He made a detour around the net post of the golf course, and walked to the observatory deck the man had mentioned. The observatory deck wasn't big and its novelty had long worn off. Passengers didn’t come here as often, unless it was to go through it to a new scenic spot. For now it was almost empty.

Except for a blond man wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He was staring down at the lower deck with a sketchbook in his hands. He seemed to be drawing.

Was the man from last night that tall? James took a few steps forward and, out of nowhere, a sense of reluctance welled up within him. Before he could say anything, he stared down at the jacket, wondering how he should return it to its owner.

“I have other jackets, if you want to keep that.”

James lifted his head. The man who had been staring away a few moments ago was now looking at him.

James may haven been ruined inside, but his manners were still intact. He held out the jacket. “Thank you. I apologize for my poor disposition last night.”

The man raised his eyebrows. He put the charcoal pencil back inside his sketchbook and wiped his hands against his jeans before taking the jacket.

James put his hands back inside his pockets and nodded at the man a few steps away from him. “Anyway, thank you. Once again.”

The man put on the jacket without hesitation. James was positive the jacket belonged to him. It fit him. Perfectly.

“Steve Rogers.” Giving him a friendly smile, the man extended his left hand. 

James quickly clasped his hand. “James Barnes.”

But when James thought the polite handshake should be over, and was about to take his hand back, the other man didn’t let go.

Steve stared at James’ hand. After a long while, he finally said, “…Don’t drink too much.”

He let go of James’ hand when he finished. James could only nod slightly. He didn’t know how he should respond. Sensing the other man had more to say, he waited for another minute.

“When you’re drunk, those unhappy things,” Steve lifted his gaze from James’ chest to his eyes and looked steadily at him, “they won’t disappear. You might find me too meddlesome, but…” 

_Yes, you are,_ James thought to himself. He managed a strained smile. “Thank you for your advice. I won’t keep you—”

“Don’t say that,” Steve interrupted him. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

It annoyed him. The impertinence of this man. But James chose to ignore it. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re staying in the penthouse suite, but you would rather drink yourself into oblivion. You have bruises on your palms from clenching them too hard; the dark circles under your eyes indicate that you haven’t been sleeping well for a long time—”

Unable to restrain himself any longer, James burst out with agitation, “What’s that got to do with you?” He charged forward and tugged at the man’s shirt collar. “Who do you think you are to judge other people?”

Steve didn’t say another word, but James could see pity in his eyes and that was the last thing he needed from him.

“This is my life, my choice! I can get myself drunk every day and it’s none of your business!” Overwhelming resentment came tumbling out like rolling waves. James yanked harder at the man’s collar. “Who are you? What do you know? You don’t know me and what I’ve been through, what gives you the right to judge me?”

He could feel his face going red from the shouting. The fabric in his hands was probably wrecked, but James wasn’t sorry at all. If the blond had the audacity to scrutinize a complete stranger, he should also have the guts to take on the consequences. James wanted to yell some more, but the discomfort from the hangover prevented him from hurling more insults. He was still gripping tightly to the man’s shirt collar. His entire body was trembling violently from outrage.

“What gives you the right? What do you know…”

Steve suddenly reached for James’ hands. James thought Steve was going to fling them off, but instead he removed James’ hands from his shirt calmly. Just like that, James loosened his grip.

“You’re right, I don’t understand; but I hope you feel better now after letting it all out.”

James stood where he was, perplexed. He was trying to decipher the intention behind the man’s attempt to provoke him. 

During the scuffle, Steve’s sketchbook had fallen by James’ foot and the charcoal pencil had rolled behind the blond.

Steve took two steps to pick up the charcoal pencil when he suddenly remembered what he had put inside the sketchbook. Panicked, he turned to retrieve it, but James had beaten him to it. The sketchbook was not bound up properly by the leather string attached to it and a few loose leaves of paper tucked in the book were scattered on the floor.

And one of them was a sketch of James’ profile.

He was staring at it.

“I…” Steve struggled to explain, but he couldn’t find the words.

Distracted, James looked at the other sketches, but his gaze eventually settled back on the one with his own profile.

“You seemed depressed that day.” Steve sighed. “I thought you might not be in a good mood, so I didn’t ask for your permission.”

James studied the sketch of himself. Furrowed brows, tight lips. He should recognize the face, but he didn’t. Not really. He didn’t recognize himself. Not since the disintegration of everything he’d known so well. He had long forgotten himself; didn’t know who he was. He wasn’t the heir his father had initially thought was able to preserve the family’s fortune, nor was he the big brother his siblings had thought they could rely on.

Starting with the edge he was clutching, the entire piece of paper was beginning to crinkle.

It was too late when he found the sketch was almost ruined. “I’m sorry, the paper…”

“It’s yours anyway.” Unfazed, Steve shrugged. “It’s you in the sketch.”

“Draw another one.” The charcoal lines on the crumpled paper were smudged. “I’m sorry, and that includes the yelling just now.”

“No, I am too meddlesome.” Steve took the sketchbook from James. He had, in truth, drawn more than one sketch of the brunet. Abashed, he opened the sketchbook and took out another piece of paper. “In any case, I think you should have this, too.”

James accepted the piece of paper. It was a drawing of him talking to a little girl by the pool. If he remembered correctly, the little girl was the granddaughter of one of the passengers. She was here with her grandparents for vacation. The little girl had said James had beautifully colored eyes. Her red curly hair and her eyes, green like a lake, had reminded him of Margaret.

From the angle of the drawing, Steve would have been sitting opposite them when he was drawing. James regarded the artist. “You are… an artist?”

Steve chuckled. “No, I’m barely one.” He collected all the pieces that had fallen out of the sketchbook, put them back into the book and bound it up with the leather string carefully. “I draw every once in a while. I wanted to be a comic artist when I was a kid, but I didn’t get the chance.”

“You’re really good.” The curls of the little girl and the lines of the hem of her top looked as if they were fluttering in the wind. “But then again, what do I know?”

“You think it’s good. That’s enough for me.” Steve realized how odd that sounded. He quickly added, “Artwork, drawing, art study, whatever you call it, I’m not saying my drawings are art, what I’m trying to say is: it’s more important to have someone appreciate what you draw.”

“Someone who understands. I know what you mean.” James smiled. When the smile faded, he continued, “Listen, I really appreciate what you did just now. For whatever reason, I’m really grateful.” He did feel better. At least better than this morning when he felt like he’d just woken up in hell. “Can I buy you,” he checked his watch, “dinner? I have a table at Prego.”

The moment he heard the invitation, Steve lowered his head and took a brief look at his sneakers. “You’re too kind. I didn’t do anything to deserve a dinner invitation.” He turned his gaze to the ocean far away. “I offended you.”

James furrowed his brow. “That’s true. I would have punched you if I wasn’t hungover.” He held up the sketch in his hand and motioned to the blond. “But this—future great artist—is worth dinner. In fact, I’m the one taking advantage of you.”

Steve considered for a second, regarding him with concern. “No wine?”

James smirked. “No wine, just dinner. What do you usually have?”

Steve gestured to the swimming pool behind him with his chin. “The bar next to the pool.”

James glanced at his watch. He hadn't had a single drop of water yet. “All right. Is eight o’clock fine with you?”

Steve frowned. “They’re playing a movie at eight…”

“How about seven?” James hadn't asked anyone out for a long time. Furthermore, he didn’t expect his date to be a man. “I feel like having ribs already.”

“Let’s make it six?” Steve decided for them. Calm but firm. He explained when he saw James’ raised eyebrows. “I thought maybe we could have more time to… talk?”

He had probably never had dinner at such an early hour in his entire life, thought James to himself, but he had nothing better to do on the Symphony. Did it matter what time he had dinner?

And so, with his head held high, he looked straight at the man before him. He had memorized the name—Steve Rogers—“Okay, six o’clock then.”

X

James hardly ever went to the grill house next to the bar during dinnertime. He looked around and noticed the diners here were younger passengers on the ship. Even though his family owned a large cruise line, James’ time spent on a liner wasn’t nearly as much as people thought. He preferred his yacht. Especially the Athena, which he and his father had spent an entire summer vacation applying with a fresh layer of wax. James’ father had taken him to the Adriatic Sea on the Athena when he was twelve and they had navigated the isles for the whole summer. 

James raised his hand to motion the server to pour him another glass of sparkling water and ice a new bottle. Steve had said six o’clock, but it was already half past six and his great artist had yet to turn up. “He’s actually half an hour late…”

Just when he couldn’t wait any longer and ordered an appetizer, the blond finally appeared.

Steve Rogers was still wearing his white shirt and jeans—he probably had no desire to change his clothes. He had added, as he had mentioned before, another jacket. A brown one.

This was an all-inclusive cruise vacation; the passengers on board were entitled to food and facilities on the cruise liner. Occasionally, there would be one or two exclusive dinner parties reserved for passengers from particular cabins; but throughout the two-week journey, there would be at least two weekend evenings on which all the passengers would be invited to attend dinner parties hosted by the captain. Formal dress code was required for these occasions. James thought everyone would have at least scanned the rules and regulations before boarding. The voyage of the Symphony commenced in mid-fall and the most formal dress code stipulated for this journey was white tie. No gentleman would board the liner without a tailcoat or a three-piece suit.

“I’m sorry!” Steve pulled out the chair opposite James and sat down.

The round table could seat six people, and Steve Rogers chose the farthest seat from him to sit.

James didn’t know why, but the blond’s decision made him uncomfortable. Maybe he was overthinking. So James waved his hand to indicate that it was fine, then he signaled the server over to take their orders.

After a round of ordering, James thought Steve might have a reason for being late, but the other man said something totally unrelated.

“You didn’t order ribs.”

In fact, James had only ordered an Italian salad. Tomatoes and buffalo cheese with olive oil and basil. A simple dish suitable for someone with no appetite. He couldn’t recall when the last time was he had wanted to eat in abundance. “I had some snacks in the afternoon.” A harmless lie. “You remembered the ribs.”

No one was paying for anyone. Dinner and table reservations required a small fee, a symbolic charge in case passengers forgot about their reservations. Nobu and Prego were the more popular choices in the evening than the restaurant by the pool. The young people around them were here for a swim rather than dinner.

Anyway, what crew member would ask their boss to pay for dinner? Even if he was just a puppet.

Steve Rogers frowned again. This man disapproved of the behavior of other people too readily, James thought. “What? Think I should eat more?”

“No, sorry, it’s just a bad habit of mine.” Realizing he was frowning, Steve sighed. “Don’t bother about me.”

James took a sip of his sparkling water, cocked his head and looked at Steve. “Old habits die hard. If you weren't an artist, I’d take you as a nurse.”

Steve laughed hollowly. “Nah, it’s just a habit I picked up after living in a couple of strict foster homes.”

“I thought you fight for food in foster homes, not worry about whether or not other people have eaten.” That was thoughtless and inappropriate. What he had just said. Regretful, James put down his glass. “I apologize. What I said was rude.”

“No.” Steve gave him a gentle smile. “Not really. It’s the truth, anyway. I think I was lucky to have encountered some decent foster homes, and some siblings. Especially the younger ones. Fussing over them became a habit. One foster home in particular had only one son. An exceptional MIT student. He never ate or drank when he was busy with his projects. I nagged at him so much that he had to hide away every time he saw me.”

An eighteen year old teenager being chased after by a twelve year old boy.

James couldn’t help laughing after listening to Steve’s description. “I have siblings, too.”

The salad arrived. Without warning, James picked up his plate and emptied half of the tomatoes and cheese into Steve’s plate. “Jasper doesn’t eat tomatoes and Margaret can’t take cheese. Lactose intolerant.” James stopped the server and asked for another order of what Steve was having. To be exact, it was Coca Cola, sirloin steak, and bouillabaisse. A weird combination he had never tried before.

Steve’s smile was thankful when he heard James’ order.

“I’m the eldest. Fourteen years older than my brother, sixteen years older than my sister. Basically, they’re my children.” James picked two slices of lemon and put them into Steve’s water glass. It was rare that he wanted to talk to people. “I look after them, not that I’m taking all the credit. The help and the nanny worked very hard. But not many people cared if I ate or drank, or if I was happy.”

He had been in the art classroom on the cruise liner just recently, and had requested the crew help him frame Steve’s sketch in a simple frame.

Then he packed it into his luggage.

James had spent the entire afternoon contemplating: for a stranger who he’d just met, Steve Rogers was extraordinarily meddlesome. His actions were magnified by the fact that people nowadays were, in general, cold and detached. But then again, the pain within James was almost drowning him. Could he blame anyone for catching on?

More importantly, he had forgotten that there were people who cared about him. Even a random stranger.

“You must find it weird that rich people actually have their own struggles.”

“No, not at all.” Steve leaned forward unconsciously, his gaze fixed on James. “You have the right to have struggles and be unhappy.”

Of course, James smiled. Except no one had reminded him of that for a long time. “Well said.”

Steve returned the smile. “You’re the big brother, I can imagine. Tell me more about them?”

James used his fork to fiddle with the tomatoes. “Sure. Well, Jasper. Jasper still wet his bed even at nine years old. He’s like a baby. He likes French, science, and _The Phantom of the Opera_. A terrible combination, really. He made his tutor translate the lines in _The Phantom of the Opera_ into French, then went on stage at a science fair with too much dry ice. It was a science fair. His classmates made volcano models.” Jasper had been so heavily shrouded in vapor from the dry ice that his teachers had to manually fan out the excess through the side doors.

Steve Rogers sat there listening to James. Every now and then he would chime in with a couple of stories about his foster homes.

He talked about a foster home that ran a circus. That family had a kid called Clint. An excellent archer, and he was responsible for the archery show. James couldn’t help but cut in to say he also liked target practice, that he used to go fox hunting with his father during hunting season. Almost immediately, Steve pointed out the cruelty of the act, but James retorted by claiming it was a noble pursuit.

“What did you perform in the circus?” James noticed the watch on Steve’s wrist wasn’t working at all, but the latter lowered his head to look at it from time to time. He did it again in that split second. James was curious. “Wait, before you answer that, tell me, why are you wearing a watch that doesn’t work?”

“It belonged to my mother,” Steve replied quickly. He kept his tone steady. Before James could apologize, he added, “I don’t even remember her, so don’t worry about it. People get into the system for all kinds of reasons. My father died during the Gulf War. My mother was a nurse, died of lung cancer. Healers can’t heal themselves; she didn’t think she would get sick. Probably too busy taking care of me. I had no other family, so I was taken in by Social Services. My mother left me this watch. It’s not working, but it became a habit to wear it. It’s easy to lose your sense of time with my job. Wearing it is like a reminder.”

James had taken for granted that Steve Rogers was an artist, even though the man had specifically denied it. James hadn’t considered the fact that Steve Rogers being on board the Symphony was no coincidence. There must have been a reason. No down-and-out artist could afford any of the cabins on the liner. This wasn’t the Titanic. No one could board an extravagant cruise liner for holding good cards.

But, every now and then, James would look at Rogers and think the man was exceedingly well built for an artist.

Steve took a sip of his Coca Cola and asked James instead, “Would you still like to know what I did in the circus?”

James held his hands to his cheeks and grinned with interest.

Steve took that as a yes. “I was the target because I was really, really short. We would put watermelons, apples, and oranges on my head and let Clint shoot them down with his arrows. I didn’t have to do anything, just stood there, wearing a helmet with a fruit stuck on top. Sometimes I would even eat the fruit when it dropped on the floor. Part of the performance.” 

His told the story with a tone of amusement and good humor, but James obviously didn’t think it was funny.

“It was too dangerous, this circus—”

“It was.” Steve smiled. He reached out to touch James’ hand, which was resting on the table. Stroking his fingers lightly, he reassured him. “I guess someone made a report later. We were all sent to different places. That foster home had another pair of siblings, a sister and a brother. Wanda and Peter were even younger than me, but they also had to go on stage and perform. Someone must have found it unacceptable. Then again, hey, it’s not a horrible child abuse story. I promise.”

Another light stroke on James’ fingers, Steve’s grin was even wider. “The Maximoffs made us perform, but they’d never let us starve a single day. Every time after they’d received the childcare expenses, they would take us to the nearest food truck for a good meal. You think this steak tastes good?” He stuck his fork into the juicy sirloin on his plate. “I bet you’ve never had a Texas steak. Every food truck steak along the Texas highway tastes better than this.”

Catching his mood, James smiled. “Can’t imagine you were a skinny little kid.”

“Everyone has a past. You fell a few times learning to walk, right? Or were you always so tall and handsome?” Steve realized he was probably being way too honest the moment the words escaped his mouth. “Erm, from an aesthetic point of view, you are… your profile and your jawline, no, that’s not the point. I’ve drawn you, some from imagination, not that I’m always thinking about you…”

James raised an eyebrow. “I know what you mean, but sorry to disappoint you, I was always so tall and handsome. Since I was a kid.”

He was a little embarrassed by Steve’s compliments, but it still made him happy. Men and women had sung praises of James’ good looks, and some of them wanted to take advantage of his position, while others wanted something else from him. But Steve wasn't related to him in any way. Before last night, they were just two separate lines randomly intersecting on a cruise liner. After this trip, they would once again be two parallel lines, going their own way. Steve’s compliments weren't morally flawed or indecent. They only brought him joy.

“So you’re the center of attention wherever you go?” Steve smiled. “You do look like you were born perfect.”

“I’m not,” James replied quietly. “I’m broken.”

“Piece it back together.” Steve softened his voice as well. “James, you just have to fit the pieces of yourself back together.”

Surprisingly comforted by the man’s words, James gazed at the man who sat opposite him, unwitting. “…could you?”

Steve was stunned for a heartbeat. “Could I what?”

James took a sip of his water. He hadn’t had any alcohol, but he felt lightheaded. “Fit me back together.”

“How?” 

James had all kinds of insinuations in mind when he said that, but Steve just seemed confused. James looked fixedly at the blond for a few moments, the lightheadedness dissipating gradually. He was a little disappointed, but at the same time he was glad he hadn't misjudged Steve’s character. The blond was not only a busybody, he was also honest. Tall and upright like the houses built in the early twentieth century.

James didn't stay on topic. He curled the corners of his lips. For the first time in the last ten years, he felt the bitterness of his own smile. “Can I go with you? To your movie?”

“It’s not my movie, it’s the movie playing in the ship’s cinema.” Steve smiled at him, thoughtful enough to ignore the previous topic. For a few seconds, images of “fitting back together” flashed through his mind. But Steve had spent enough time with isolated children to know better. Steve knew that he couldn’t take advantage of James especially when he was feeling lonely.

It would only break him and he would disintegrate like foam on the sea.

James Barnes held back his smile. With deliberate iciness, he said, “Well, let’s go to the ship’s cinema. You’ll sit at the far left of the theater and I’ll sit at the other far end.”

“The other far end is on the right, James,” Steve replied without much thought, but the brunet’s expression only became more glacial.

“Go see the movie yourself, Rogers.” James left a couple of dollars on the table. “I would rather stay on the right side of the ship.”

When James stood up, Steve extended a hand to grab hold of his wrist. “Erm… I’m sorry?”

That was interesting. Steve was apologizing as if they were a couple. James looked at him with interest. “Why?”

“You’re upset,” Steve answered intuitively. “The last thing I wanted from this evening was to see you upset.”

“Go charm some beautiful girls, Rogers.” James lowered his head to break eye contact. “If I may recommend the lady sitting at the bar.” He used his chin to point in her direction. “The lady in red is Miss Carter. She’s English. I had tea with her two days ago. A woman with a fine sense of humor.” And her father and her brother managed the two largest private equity funds in London. “Point is: she’s a little unhappy. You’ll make her smile from the bottom of her heart.” He struggled out of Steve’s grip. “Just like how you made me feel happy.”

James stepped away from the table, but Steve wasn't letting him go so easily. “Let’s have dinner again. Tomorrow.”

“Rogers, I shouldn’t be too happy.” Steve’s hand was just as warm as his jacket. “I don’t have the right.”

“If you have the right to be unhappy, of course you have the right to be happy. At least for another night.” Steve was almost begging him. “I’m sorry I screwed up in the end. Of course you’re entitled to reject me, you have the right to reject me, but for the sake of Jasper, for your little sunshine Margaret, you’re worthy of happiness. They would want you—”

“You only heard about them from me, Steve Rogers, you have no right to speak on their behalf.” James withdrew his hand once again. “The ship will dock at Reykjavik tomorrow. Go take a shore tour. The bus departs from the harbor at six o’clock.”

James tried not to get attached to that warmth, and left the poolside.

He didn't forget to take a bottle of twenty-five year old Royal Salute from the bar. Right in front of Steve's eyes.

X

“Thor, I need you to send away the butler on the penthouse deck.” Descending from the stairs, Steve asked for the help of the Symphony’s handsome young captain. He was desperate. Every time he went to the penthouse level, the butler gave him an intimidating expression that demanded to know what he was doing there. He just wanted to see James. It wasn't like he was plotting a conspiracy.

“My friend, if I did not know you, I would think you are plotting a burglary.”

But as his brother for so many years, Thor Odinson didn't ask further questions. He took off his captain’s cap and walked up the stairs at a calm pace. Steve hid in the shadow of the stairs. Five minutes later, he saw Thor coming down the steps with the butler. They pushed open the door leading to the bridge and left the deck.

Without wasting a second, Steve walked up to the penthouse deck quickly and found the door with a “Do Not Disturb” sign hanging on it. After much hesitation, he finally pushed the doorbell. The sound of the electric bell echoed through the entire deck. No reply. Steve pushed the button again.

It was followed by a string of muffled sounds, and the door opened with a smack.

The pair of eyes behind the door went from fuming rage to bottomless despair.

Two consecutive days of hangover was nothing. James Barnes had a more self-destructive record.

But he didn’t expect to see Steve Rogers standing outside his door.

All the passengers should have disembarked by now. He hadn't been sleeping well, so he was able to hear the sounds of his neighbors leaving the deck at noon, and the voice of the butler helpfully reminding them the direction to go. After spending so much time on board, no one would opt for staying on the ship.

Who spent loads of money to stay on a ship anyway? Steve Rogers wasn't one to be assessed with logic.

“What do you want, Rogers?” James was almost sighing. If his anger hadn't been greater than his infatuation, he probably would have pulled the man—who came to his door clad in the brilliance of the setting sun—and kissed him senseless. “How did you manage to have the butler let you in?”

“He’s not around. I snuck in.” Steve noticed the unbuttoned collar of James’ crumpled purple shirt. He was wearing a pair of boxer briefs. Steve swallowed with difficulty. “I had to see you.”

The man looked like a mess. He lived like a lotus-eater. What made him so irresistibly difficult for Steve to let go? Steve resented people like him. He had the ability to make a difference for the world, he had a fortune unmatched by so many people, he never had to work for his next meal, and yet he chose to live his life like a ghost, drifting between the crevices of day and night.

Before first speaking to him, Steve Rogers had been watching James Barnes for three days. On the first day, James had spent most of his time sitting in the café on the deck. Every crème de la crème from high society who had walked past him shook hands with him. Steve could imagine that James was a man of importance. The man walked like one of the political elite, smiled like a super model, drank champagne like he was drinking water.

But when those people left his line of sight, he went back to being the ghost that he was. Sitting in the café, drained and hollow, surrounded by personalities and big shots.

Even breathing seemed taxing.

Steve had seen people like him. He didn’t pay further attention to James. At least not on that day.

On the second day, James appeared on the cruise liner as immaculately groomed as the day before. He refused any invitation to stop by for a chat and stood on the deck instead, staring out at the ocean in the direction the liner was sailing. And then Steve was positive that no one aside from him saw James wiping away the tears collected at the corner of his eye. It would have been an illusion if it had happened only once, but no, it wasn’t. James wrapped his beige trench coat tightly around him, yet he still trembled as if he was in a freezer.

In that moment, Steve believed that James was no different from any one of them. He also had his own struggles. A war within himself.

But there were so many people out there fighting with themselves, how could James give up on himself time and again?

On the third day, a little girl had lost her way at the poolside, failing to find her parents. The tiny frame wandered among adults with champagne or cocktails in their hands, and it was James who took on the role of her protector and guided the little girl to the seating area. He got her a glass of juice and asked her gently why was she alone by the poolside. Steve may have been a little over imaginative, but he felt like he could hear the conversation between James and the little girl amidst the noisy throng of people.

When the little girl’s family came to get her and left the swimming pool, Barnes looked as if God had taken away all his light.

Steve’s intuition told him that Barnes was definitely not a bad guy. Just when he had finished the rough sketch and was about to observe the brunet for more details, he was already gone. Prominent and simultaneously inconspicuous in a crowd of people, James was a summary of all the contradictions in this world.

The contradiction reached its peak that evening. Garbed in a fitted tailcoat, drowned in tears of anguish, James appeared in his sight, sophisticated and distressed all at once.

Steve had a general understanding of love at first sight, but he wasn’t very good at flirting. It was in his natural instinct to lecture people and, luckily, that didn’t intimidate James. He’d even agreed to have dinner with him.

And then, throughout dinner, Steve witnessed how James had drawn him close, and pushed him far away in the end.

Steve had never hooked up on the ship. In fact, he didn't have the opportunity, which was why he had asked his brother to get his friends in Reykjavik to find him a motorcycle and two helmets, no matter what. It had earned Steve some mocking from his friends, asking him if they needed to get him all the necessities for an outdoor tryst. It was only five, maybe six degrees centigrade in Iceland after all.

Although he was blushing red with embarrassment, Steve still remembered to make a comeback by reminding them that he had a house downtown.

Thor, the other owner of the house, had laughed thunderously.

Later, much much later, Steve regretted not asking Thor beforehand if he had known exactly who the James Barnes staying in the Crystal Suite was. 

And now Steve was so distracted by the bedraggled James standing before him that he couldn’t think. The man was disheveled, revealing enough pale skin to unlock a man’s deepest desires.

Attraction required the opposites sides of two magnets to come together, but James was livid about the sharp noise of the doorbell. Why couldn’t Steve Rogers just let him drown in his alcohol?

Infuriated, James asked, “Answer my question, Rogers, what do you want?”

_You._

The answer almost left his lips, but Steve found his rationality. He picked up the helmet he had put on the floor just now. “I want a date.”

What he didn’t tell James was: even if James was the world’s most wanted financial fugitive, Steve would use all of his connections to ensure James’ safety for his entire life; because, apart from being a fugitive, Steve couldn’t imagine that anyone in this world would choose to live the life James was living now.

Why should he go on a date with Steve? James was slowly sobering up. He turned to pull down the trench coat on the hanger and slipped it on like a bathrobe, then he strode across the corridor to the door opposite his. When the door opened, he pulled Steve from behind and pushed him to the door.

“Barnes?” Peggy Carter peered at the brunet who had preferred to drink rather than talk to her. She was confused.

“Hey, Peggy.” Despite his pounding headache, James tried his best to conjure his friendliest smile for the woman before him. “This golden retriever,” he pushed Steve forward, “will tell you the story of him being a stray dog. Very enticing. You two should talk!” The second he was done talking, the icy visage returned to James’ face. He headed back to his suite and slammed the door.

Left behind on the spot, Steve’s expression was unbearable to look at. Even for Peggy Carter.

“Ice King.” She cleared her throat and out came those two words. “You’ve finally experienced it.” The man standing before her was extremely handsome, if not for the crushed look on his face. His semblance rivaled the heroes of Greek legend. A man blessed and chosen by the gods. But the man was at a loss. That was when she realized the clothes that he was wearing were probably bought from Walmart. “Oh, so you’re Cinderella, not a hero.” Then the helmet must be the glass slipper. And it probably didn’t fit her.

“I…” Taking a deep breath, Steve tried to overcome his emotions. He extended a friendly hand. “Steve Rogers.”

“Oh… oh?” The name sounded familiar. “ _The_ Steve Rogers?”

Unsure of what exactly she knew, Steve asked cautiously, “You mean—”

“You warded off the pirates, did you not?” Steve Rogers. He was also the youngest captain in America and worked for the world’s largest shipping company, the Howling Commandos. He had a military background, was a member of the Special Forces. He was also familiar with all the dangerous waters, specializing in routes where no one dared to venture. And he’d caused her father massive losses in the hedge funds he’d invested in. “You’re a hero. Alas, your princess doesn’t seem to appreciate it.”

“He can be very cruel.” Steve had first hand experience.

“Yes, indeed.” Peggy went into her suite and returned with a bottle of apple juice. She gave it to Steve. “Let’s just talk in the corridor. You won’t be able to see the door open if you come into my room.” Truth was, she wouldn’t have let him go, and the Ice King, whose forte was to push away anyone who had taken a shine to him, would continue to stay in his castle.

Steve hadn’t thought about entering Peggy’s suite anyway. He took the bottle of apple juice from her politely. Just then, from the corner of his eye, he caught the silhouette of the deck butler. Feeling guilty, he almost spilled the drink in his hand. Amused, Peggy hooked her arm around his elbow, thus resolving the butler’s intent to come over and ask who he was.

After the butler had left, Peggy let go of him quickly. “You have no idea what cruelty is. James wasn’t like that before. Anyway…” She shouldn’t be commenting on the circumstances of the Barneses, especially when she didn’t know if the man behind the door was still awake, listening to them, or asleep, deep in his nightmares. “But he is now. We went to the same university. Cornell. You’ve heard of it? Anyway, we weren’t in the same department, but he wasn’t like that. You would know if you were together. Judging from his overreaction, he absolutely likes you—”

“He… me?” It was quite difficult to make any positive connections with being called a stray dog.

“Of course. Do you not see how hard he tried to push you away from him?” Peggy smirked. “Men, women, they’re all the same in a situation like this. You think you don’t deserve him, but you can’t let him go. That’s how it is.” She flashed a mesmerizing smile. “You looked like you’ve the carriage ready. Go wait at your carriage, I’ll help you get him out.”

Steve couldn’t imagine how was she going to get James out. “…I might need him to disembark.”

“Of course. Couldn’t imagine riding a motorcycle on the ship, could you?”

Realizing how stupid he was, Steve smiled, embarrassed. He picked up his helmet. “How much time do you need? I still need to pick up some things to get ready.”

“Ten minutes? Including letting the butler processes all the exit formalities, probably twenty minutes?”

Peggy slipped across him to the closed door. Rogers was a good man through and through, inexperienced in the game of manipulation.

“Okay, I’ll wait for him by the main road of the harbor.” He nodded at—the lady in red from yesterday would be her—Peggy. “Thank you.”

Peggy shook her head slightly. The gratitude was needless. She watched as he left the penthouse deck. Steve didn’t have to thank her. Not yet. She wasn’t even certain about her chances of success. But if James did like him, the chances shouldn’t be too low. Warily, she knocked on the door. If this turned out well, Steve would realize that Barnes’ manipulations were merely tricks to keep him hanging on.

But James wasn't playing hard to get.

He was smitten by Steve, but he didn’t want to release himself from his own self-inflicted torture.

It was easier to have an enemy than to live with a goal.

The door remained closed. Of course it did. Peggy walked to the deck butler’s break room nearby, using the four zeros code that nobody deemed necessary to change. She took out the extra key card from the safety box. A skeleton key may have been a legend, but a master key card was not.

She swiped the card, opened the door, and entered brazenly. The bed was empty, so was the balcony, but there was the sound of running water in the bathroom.

She wasn't sure if she had seen James Barnes naked on any occasion; but, come to think of it, she was sure he wouldn’t hurt to look at. She turned the knob of the bathroom door, which was usually unlocked when one was alone. The heater in the suite was on, but not warm enough to take a cold shower. Yet there was James Barnes, sitting under the spray, letting the cold water pour down on him.

Judging from how wet he looked, he’d been sitting there for at least twenty minutes. His skin was pale white, and his lips were purple.

What was the point of hurting someone else when it was also tormenting him? Peggy pulled down the big towel, turned off the water and wrapped the man in it from behind. She said into his ear, “I’m hosting a dinner party tomorrow evening. On the ship.” She tilted her head to look into the pair of eyes that were digesting her information. “The CFO of Hyatts. You know that major merger deal? It’s financed by SHIELD. I’ve handled it, and I’ve seen the accounts. If the money goes to another merger deal, say for instance, Barnes—” James gripped hold of the arms wrapped around him, indicating that he was listening. “Pierce has enraged Fury, apparently as enraged as his name. If I were you, I’d attend that dinner party.”

“Pierce wouldn’t let me go.” James’ voice was raspy. “And why are you helping me?”

“Fury doesn’t like you, I don’t like Fury. He’s only adopted, but that doesn’t give him the right to strut around and lecture me.” Peggy made an effort to project a grin as ruthless as a cold-blooded killer. Going by Barnes’ unconvinced expression, she was obviously not very successful. “Consider it a massive family dispute. You might not believe it, but I will profit from it.”

Probably some hedge funds? “How do I bypass Pierce?”

This was the part in which she was most hesitant. Pierce’s plan would come to nothing, and she shouldn’t be the one to let it happen. But this was a dangerous bet. If she won, her family would be free of the Barnes’ money pit. It might break the heart of the Ice King, but the hero could also whisk the king away. You win some, you lose some. The situation was considerably favorable to Barnes.

He would thank her for it. Peggy could already visualize the wedding at Central Park. Barnes would be wearing a black Gucci suit, the color of the material bringing out a skin tone that women would be envious of.

“You want your knight. I’ll ask Odinson to write him an invitation. You can’t go, doesn’t mean your knight couldn’t.”

She stood up to walk to the wardrobe and opened it. There was a cerulean polo shirt. Not made to keep one warm. And that was what she wanted. She also found a pair of light-colored skinny jeans. There was hardly any occasion on the ship to wear that. No wonder it was crumpled as if it hadn't seen daylight in a thousand years. Whatever. As long as the zipper worked when the time came, who cared if a pair of jeans was straightened or not.

“You must have him wrapped around your little finger, or else your thick-headed knight won’t be able to help you cross the shark pond.” She turned around to address Barnes, who was gathering the towel around himself tightly. “And by that I mean you must have all his attention on you. You must look so fragile that he can’t bear to see you get hurt. He’ll say yes to all your cruel requests. He’ll smile like an American sweetheart at the sharks. He should be infatuated with you like a schoolboy, to let everyone believe that you’re there because your sweetheart can’t leave your side for even a second, not because you want to put your hands into Fury’s pocket.”

_You want him to put his head on the platter willingly. For you._

After a moment of consideration, a mocking smirk stretched across James’ face. He turned to Peggy Carter. “I didn’t know you were a master in the game of seduction.”

“That’s hurtful, Barnes.” Peggy pulled down the polo shirt angrily and threw it at him. “It’s not important if I’m good at it.” Taking out the pair of jeans, she squinted and scrutinized James. He was obviously too thin to wear them. “You should, in fact, be worried your assets in this game you used to play seem to have taken an immense reduction.”

“What? Isn’t my smile mesmerizing enough?” James followed her line of sight to the pair of jeans. Oh. He understood what she meant. “They’ll probably hold, although they’re not as tight-fitting.” 

“Maybe you should try the capri pants style?” Peggy tilted her head toward her suite. “You’d look five years younger?”

James backtracked five steps. “Don’t even think about it. I’m not wearing women’s jeans.”

“Oh please, my taste in fashion is so much more masculine than yours.” Ignoring the fact that James was still dripping wet, with only a towel wrapped around him, Peggy dragged the man into her suite. As luck would have it, she had a pair of jeans in the wrong size due to a mix up; but even if the brunet could squeeze into them, whether he’d still look delectable was another story. Or maybe… 

“Maybe you shouldn’t wear your boxer briefs.”

X

After less than fifteen minutes, Steve saw James coming down from the cruise liner, clad in the trench coat he had been wearing before. The temperature outside was five degrees centigrade, and he was only wearing that flimsy trench coat and a pair of jeans that barely covered his ankles. Did he put away all his warm suits?

Steve had so much to tell him. He wanted to ask him if he was cold. All the concerns threatening to spill from the tip of his tongue were directed toward the man who had just scoffed at him. Steve had no doubt that he was in love. He was only uncertain if he was worthy of the same devotion from the brunet.

James walked to Steve, surveying the Harley before him. It was five degrees. Five degrees centigrade and all he got was a Harley.

But if he could get close to Steve, he would even ride a Vespa.

Steve wasn't the kind of man who could be easily seduced with a kiss. James stopped a few steps before the blond. Steve deserved more than a kiss. He deserved an explanation and an apology.

“I’m sorry,” James said quietly. “For behaving like a piece of shit earlier.”

“You were.” Steve was grateful for James’ apology. He had already forgiven him and it was good to know the sentiment wasn't wasted. “I should also apologize.”

“Why?” James almost sighed. Was that another bad habit picked up from another foster home? He moved next to the motorcycle and took the helmet. “What did you do wrong, Rogers? You’re the kindest person in the world. You helped a man who threw up badly, you spent time talking to a man who wouldn’t eat and had isolated himself from the world, you wished happiness on a man who's unworthy, you invited—” a fox with ulterior motives, “—an alcoholic on a date. Do you have some Messiah complex? Do you have to save everyone?”

“We’re talking about the same person.” Steve took his helmet and motioned him to lean forward so he could put the helmet on without messing up his hair. “It’s you.” A man who was suffering but gentle at the same time; a man who had an angelic smile, but walked through hell itself. “I don’t want to be a savior, I just want to—” Separated by the helmet, he touched the brunet’s face. What should he say? Would he scare the man away if he told him that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him? “—spend more time with you.”

“Three days. Today’s only the third day, Rogers. Don’t like me too much.” What he didn't say was: please don’t hate me after this.

James climbed onto the back seat. In comparison to his broad shoulders, James thought as he carefully circled his arms around Steve’s slim waist, the blond’s inverted triangle body shape was incredibly muscular.

He felt Steve pulling his arms tighter. Steve’s voice was muffled by the helmet, but James thought he was telling him to hold on tighter, and so he did. Without hesitation.

In actual fact, Steve was trying to tell him that the journey would take about ten minutes, and it would be very cold when the wind hit them.

The journey from the harbor to downtown took approximately six minutes. Steve was wearing a leather jacket, and he was used to working in freezing weather conditions, so he was unaffected by the chilly evening. The sun in mid-September Reykjavik didn't set until eight in the evening. He thought the warmth of the late afternoon sun would make a difference. So when Steve parked his motorcycle at the entrance to the cinema, and James had gotten down from the back, he was surprised to find the brunet trembling as hard as if he was sobbing.

“It’s so cold.” James had just taken off his helmet and the next second he found himself in Steve’s tight embrace. They were almost the same height, and Steve’s helmet knocked a little too hard on his forehead. James couldn’t help but giggle softly as he struggled to take off the blond’s helmet. “You’re hurting me, sweetheart.”

“You’re freezing yourself to death.” Steve caught his hands and put them in the pockets of his leather coat. “I should’ve rented a car instead.”

That was the point of the ruse. He should be freezing to death.

James leaned into the strong embrace. Thank goodness for his tendency for self-destruction. Steve didn’t question why on Earth a normal person would come to an Arcrtic city—even if it was summer in said Arctic city—wearing only a polo shirt, jeans, and a trench coat.

They stayed like that for a while. James liked the comfy feeling of being hugged. It was like a baby koala hugging a eucalyptus tree, and then being hugged back by its mother. But in comparison to human warmth, the movie theater with walls would be a much better choice.

“The movies?” he reminded Steve softly. “I don’t understand Icelandic.”

Steve lowered his head, found James’ smiling lips and pecked him lightly on the lips several times. “It’s alright, we could watch any movie. They may have films in English.”

In the end, under the recommendation of the ticket seller, they picked an Icelandic movie with English subtitles. The story was simple. It was a historical film about the Vikings, about seeking revenge among clans and tribes, and a mother willing to die for her children. James wouldn't admit that he was touched by the movie, but he would be lying if he said he was unaffected by the idea of revenge.

Steve didn't have the same complicated emotions, the bloody and gory plot didn’t resonate with him. “Isn’t it more important to save your children than die together?”

James didn't want to discuss the topic, so he kissed Steve before leaving the theater. It was unlike Steve’s soft and reassuring pecks previously; James kissed with enthusiasm, hot and passionate. It was intense with desire, enticing Steve’s tongue to pursue his. He cupped Steve’s face, unwilling to give him the chance to end the kiss.

And Steve had no wish to end it. He made no attempt to take the lead from James. He let James kiss him.

Steve had no doubt he wanted this kiss the night when he saw James’ red-rimmed eyes.

“…I’m hungry…” James whispered in between kisses. It wasn't an invitation to bed. It was the physical truth. He’d not had anything the entire day and he felt just like anyone else might feel, but only because he was with Steve. A blissful kind of hunger. Insatiable. “Do you know what there is to eat in Reykjavik?”

And by chance, Steve did know. He ended the kiss unwillingly and leaned their foreheads together. “I do. You stay here. I’ll go get it and then I’ll take you home.”

Home? Startled, James stared at Steve. Rogers wasn't American?

How could it be?

Come to think of it, why could it not be? He had lived in Texas before, who said he couldn’t be taken to Iceland?

Steve looked at the astounded expression. He knew he should explain, but the brunet might faint from cold and hunger by the time he finished the story. So he gave him another reassuring kiss and left the cinema hurriedly through the other exit.

James stayed where he was. What did he know about Steve Rogers?

He wasn't given much time to ponder on the topic. Steve returned promptly. He wasn't holding any Icelandic specialties, but two subs from Subway. At least they were warm. “I’ve not had Subway since graduating from college.”

“They have Subway at Cornell?” Steve helped James tear open the wrapping, and, with contentment, watched him take bite after bite of the steaming bread and ham.

Not to be outdone, James retorted, “Did you enjoy talking to Peggy?” He gobbled down the food quickly, entirely contrary to his upbringing. “You’ll like her. You should give it a try wooing her.”

Unable to control his impulse, Steve bit James’ pale neck. “It’s you that I love.”

James was too stunned to move. Like he’d been struck by thunder. Ignoring the mayonnaise and mustard on his fingers, he placed his hands on Steve’s face frantically, and said earnestly, “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” He delivered the sentence slowly, word by word to Steve.

“I meant every single word I said.”

The kiss and the journey after were a blur in James’ mind, enshrouded by a veil of mist.

X

The landscape of Reykjavik was another world when the sun disappeared entirely.

Under the light of the street lamps, James could tell that the roof of the house was red. The house wasn't big, but it was a detached building made of bricks. Not too far away was a lake, and he saw some people running around the shore. He could tell that this was a classy community. Could his artist be a famous contemporary artist, perhaps?

“Reykjavik.” The artist had chosen a very special place to buy a property. “You live in Reykjavik.”

“I did live here for a while.” Steve grinned as he opened the door. He turned on the light and let James enter first.

The house was chilly as the heater wasn't yet turned on. James walked farther into the house and found that most of the rooms were empty.

“Come on.” Steve was standing on the stairs leading to the second floor and motioned him. “The room is upstairs.”

“You want to go straight to the bedroom?” James remained downstairs, teasing the other man, but he was unbuttoning his trench coat. Slowly. “Aren’t you going to show me around?”

Steve gulped with effort as he watched James unbutton his coat. He came down the stairs and nipped at James’ ear. “Jerk.” Then he wrapped an arm around the brunet’s waist and guided him to the living room through the corridor. There was a large window on one side of the living room. Outside was a medium-sized lawn lined with trees.

“I started living here when I was thirteen and didn’t leave until I was twenty.” Steve studied the empty living room quietly. “I had two brothers in this family. I’m about the same age as my elder brother. We’re a few months apart. The younger brother is adopted like me.” He scanned the room, then turned his attention to James. “This is where I came of age. Spent the best times of my life here.”

“So you speak Icelandic?” Seven years. The blond practically grew up here.

“I do.” Steve smiled. “I also speak German and French. Job requirement.”

“Communicating with an artist is such a task.” James shrugged off his trench coat and threw it at Steve. “What’s upstairs?”

“There are four rooms upstairs.” With James’ coat hanging on his arm, Steve stuffed one hand into his pocket. He gazed at the teeth marks he’d left on the brunet’s neck. “You want to see the study or my room?”

James stopped midway up the steps heading upstairs and paused before he turned sideways to look at Steve. A cryptic smirk that spelled ulterior motives tugged at the corner of his lips. “I want to know where the bathroom is.”

X

Steve pulled away the white cloth that covered the bed. He saw a yellow spot, but couldn’t find any leak in the room after looking around. The stain was probably inevitable due to disuse. He sat down on the side of his bed and regarded the space. Most of the arrangements remained the same. The poster of his favorite team was still on the wall, the books on the shelf were wrapped in paper, but he could still point out which was which.

The first painting he drew was also there. Hanging on the wall. It was his foster mother and his brother, who was also Thor’s brother.

Only Frigga and Loki had the patience to stand there and let him draw.

This was one of his foster homes that not many people knew about. He never changed his last name; he was still Steve Rogers. He got along well with the Odinsons, he was happy, and he felt loved; but he could never forget his homeland. The city wasn't as high in latitude as Reykjavik, but it was much more distant and cold.

James entered the room after spending quite some time in the bathroom. Oddly enough, he looked just the same as he did before going into the bathroom. He walked to the bed and sat down next to Steve. The blond had the illusion that he was back in his teenage years, and James was the boy next door coming over to talk with him just like they were doing now. Steve’s knee touched James’. He could see from his vantage James’ ankles. The brunet was so thin that the joints were painfully obvious.

“I need you to turn off the lights, Steve,” said James in a raspy voice. “It’s not like I don’t have a wild history, but I’m not up for undressing with the lights on.”

Smiling, Steve felt around the bed for several moments when suddenly the light above them was turned off.

“What kinky design is that? You have the switch for the ceiling lamp at your bedside?”

“Circuit configuration.” Steve let out low laugh, but in the next second as he was being pushed down onto the bed, his laughter ceased. The light from the street lamps outside the window reflected on James, who was now straddling him. He was still wearing the polo shirt, buttons undone. Then James took off the shirt, revealing his delicate build, the lines of his upper body distinct.

He was ethereally beautiful.

His pale skin was flawless, save for the star-shaped tattoo on his left arm. Steve lifted his hand to touch it.

“What’s this?” To his surprise, his voice sounded throaty. Steve sat up a little and stroked the dark red star with his palm for a while. “It’s a real tattoo.”

“First girlfriend,” James replied softly. Seeing how Steve’s brows were immediately tightly drawn, he smiled and leaned forward to kiss the blond, but only managed to kiss his cheek. “Jealous? That’s very mature of you, Rogers.”

James didn’t say anything else about Steve’s jealousy. He unbuttoned Steve’s khaki pants to reveal a pair of boxer shorts clinging to his thighs. With his naked eyes, James estimated the length he had to take. He'd never taken that much before, but he had been on the receiving end. He should be able to get the knack of it.

But Steve wasn't letting him touch his boxers. “You’re—”

James brushed aside Steve’s hands and took out his cock, which was already straining with arousal. Without giving Steve time to compose himself, he lowered his head and mouthed at the tip. Decadent wet sounds came from between Steve’s thighs. To make it easier to swallow, James knelt down beside the bed as he slipped Steve out of his pants and boxer shorts.

The heated cock slid deep into James’ throat. Careful not the scrape the sensitive surface with his teeth, he hollowed his cheeks to intensify the sensation. With one hand holding the base of Steve’s length to balance his movement, and the other resting on Steve’s firm and muscular thigh, James tried to take more of Steve each time he sucked.

Bitter pre-cum dripped from the tip of Steve’s cock. James deemed this the prize he got for doing something right. He tried to take in more, then he moved lower to explore the nest of pubic hair and suck the balls behind. Steve’s hands on his shoulders gripped harder due to the onslaught. Perhaps another message that he was on the right track.

From the balls, he went back to licking up Steve’s cock. He kept going back to the memory of licking an ice cream cone when he was a child, and applied the same method to the heated head.

“I’ve never…” After several moments, James lifted his eyes to look at Steve. “Is it good?”

Steve didn’t say a word. His cupped James’ face with his hand, eyes hot with lust. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.” A playful, circular lick to the tip. “You’re trembling.”

“Because it’s so good.” So good he almost wanted to surrender.

Steve bent down from the bed, slid his hands down the back of James’ thighs and gathered him up to his waist. Then he turned James’ back to the bed and laid him down gently.

He began to undo James’ jeans. His hands were so impatient that he was almost too rough when taking off the jeans.

“Careful.”

“You’ve taken off—” _Your underwear?_

“The jeans didn’t fit. I’d no choice.” James didn't offer further explanation. He turned sideways and pulled the jeans off himself instead. The naked half of his back and the red star on his left arm burned into Steve’s gaze.

Steve grabbed hold of James’ inner thighs. Using more strength than necessary, he pulled him close enough that their cocks were touching. Steve took them both in hand, rubbing their lengths against each other. He heard a soft whimper when his cock touched James’.

Steve peered at James. The brunet’s eyes were dazed with a hint of pain as if wordlessly pleading with him to be gentler.

“Sorry.” Steve eased up on his strokes and leaned forward to find James’ lips. He was entirely on top of him. His other hand slipped around James’ waist to find its way to the curve of his ass. The intimate entrance had already been lubricated adequately. He could feel the slickness when he probed with a finger.

“You…” Steve was still wondering where James got the lube when he remembered the condoms and the small packet of lube he’d put in the pockets of his jacket. Just then James’ hand moved around his own back and nudged Steve’s finger, impatient for Steve’s entry.

“I took them when you were kissing me. A word of warning…” James went on with embarrassment, “I didn’t know I had the talent to be a pickpocket, and I’m afraid it’ll hurt…”

“It won’t, I promise.” Steve kissed the man as he struggled to speak through his lust. “Did you do it yourself in the bathroom?” He could feel his member swelling more just thinking about James preparing himself in the bathroom just now. “Let me do it for you next time.”

“Don’t be silly. You don’t know how much I can take as well as I do.”

“And you know exactly how much you have to prepare yourself for?” Steve’s voice, filled with jealousy, was oddly sharp.

James was panting when he sensed the exploring finger suddenly stop. He forced his eyes open to look at Steve.

“I have a history, Steve, and I’m not proud of it.”

Remorse poured over Steve like a cascading avalanche. Without saying another word, he kissed James as he added another finger to the brunet’s tight entrance, opening him up a little more. He began to fuck him with his fingers. After several tries—perhaps he couldn’t find that special spot, perhaps the air was dry, and the rim with its little folds lacked enough lubricant—it was difficult for him to slide his fingers.

Steve was busy kissing the shell of James’ ear when the brunet patted his thigh lightly. He turned to look at his lover who was trying his best to adapt and he couldn’t stop himself from diving forward to kiss him deeply. James felt his already air-deprived lungs drying up. His body was burning. He had never considered that this would be something hot and passionate. There was lust, there was release, it was all mechanical, never emotional.

Until Steve came into the picture. He didn’t have to do anything and the fire would spread through James’ flesh and bones. His entire body.

And he was eager to open himself up and surrender to Steve, to take back the part of himself that had been lost for a long, long time.

“In the jeans pocket…”

Steve removed his hands from James reluctantly and bent over to the side of the bed to find the pair of discarded jeans. He retrieved the condoms and lube that had been initially in his own pockets.

“Spill a little inside,” James opened his eyes a little to watch Steve empty the small packet of lube into his hand, “with the tips of your fingers.” Following his instructions, Steve lined his fingers against James’ entrance and let the liquid flow into the tunnel through the folds. “Spread the lube then put some on yourself.”

Having spread the liquid over the entire entrance thoroughly, Steve searched for the condom he had placed by his legs. All along James had been watching Steve with squinted eyes, one arm thrown over his face. He lifted the arm with some effort and tapped Steve’s thigh again.

When he had Steve’s attention, James smiled nervously. “Forget it, just come in.”

He had never done this before. His heart was pounding wildly as if a thousand drums were beating at the same time, but he could hear the voice in his brain crystal clear. James, as he had admitted, was a wild party animal, but that didn’t imply that he didn't care. He hadn’t use needles, and he always used protection. All for the bright future he used to think he would have.

That future was gone now, but maybe—he hoisted his body with difficulty and turned himself over, feeling his length against the fairly rough bed sheets and the mattress under them—but maybe after he had let Steve sate himself, maybe after everything was over, his artist would still be willing to draw him, like the portrait of his family hanging on the wall. As long as his artist was willing, he was ready to have the rest of his life engraved in those paintings.

At the moment of penetration, no matter how much lubrication had been applied, the pressure of being breached still overwhelmed James like an avalanche. His legs went slightly soft, but he managed to lift his ass. Only this position could tone down the discomfort of the initial penetration. He hadn't often surrendered himself in the past. Maybe once or twice, but then only at parties. It was never for love.

Most of the time, substances were involved.

But this time James was ecstatic. He could feel distinctly every sensation brought about by the man as he pounded into him over and over again.

Steve pushed him deep into the mattress and their connection went to another level, leaving no room between them. At a certain angle, James could feel the head of Steve’s length brushing against the most sensitive part inside him. Every quick stab of pressure from Steve increased the intense pleasure and tears were rolling down James’ face uncontrollably.

“Shh…” Steve leaned forward to kiss away his tears while whispering words of endearment into his ear. Most of them involved love, but the one that left a scorching effect on him was, “James Barnes, you have all of me now.”

He came at that moment, with the help of Steve’s palm.

While still inside him, Steve turned him over gently, spread his legs, and let them encircle Steve’s waist. “It might take a while, maybe once or twice.”

James didn’t understand exactly what Steve meant, but he loved looking at Steve’s face. His expression held no satisfaction in dominating, only adoration for James in his entirety.

As he neared the edge, Steve lifted James’ legs and left kisses on his calf every time he thrust into him.

With a low growl, Steve released himself into James and hoisted James from the bed so that he was sitting on him. White, hot liquid flowed out of James’ body slowly and Steve pulled out of him and used his fingers to gently clean out the remnants of his orgasm.

James wouldn't say the whole process was entirely comfortable, but he liked it. Very much.

He rested his head in the crook of Steve’s neck, panting a little. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Steve’s cock was still partially erect between their entangled legs; but Steve merely pressed it down with his hand and let it go soft. He had no intention of entering James again.

“You need to fatten up a bit.” Steve turned his head sideways to kiss him. “You’re only bones.”

“You men,” James chided him with a little smile and brought up his face for more kisses.

“I wouldn’t know,” Steve answered truthfully. “You’re my first.” Noticing James' wide, saucer eyes, he chuckled. “Don’t look at me like that. I'm not oblivious. I’ve read Penthouse and Playboy before.” He lowered his head to bite into the red star as punishment. “I’ve also read books about what goes on between two men. They’re probably still next to the shelves over there, in one of the boxes packed with extra papers. I just never had the opportunity to practice. It took a lot of time for me to grow into who I am now, and even more time to be popular with the girls.” He moved his lips to James’ face again, planting a small peck this time. “I took enough time to make sure that I liked men more than women, then at least another three years to find someone I was confident enough to make a commitment to.”

“Don’t—” Frantic, James attempted to cover Steve’s mouth with his hand.

But Steve dodged his hand gingerly and looked at him with severity. “James Barnes…”

Expecting a string of chastisement, James gazed at those beautiful blue eyes with dread; but the severity in those shades of blue subsided eventually, leaving only profound affection. Steve took the hands that were encircling his neck and moved them to his lips and kissed all ten fingers respectively before he leaned forward to kiss James and press him back into the mattress.

When Steve entered him a second time, James sensed the streetlights outside dim and fade. He felt as though he was being embraced by memories, all the happy memories of his childhood unleashed with full strength: cake, candles, and that beautiful white horse. The horse had an ivory white and grey mane and was a retiree from the Mounted Police Force. His parents had given it to him as a gift to assure him that he would not be replaced by his siblings. Steve Rogers’ love was a gift that reminded him that he was still alive.

The onslaught of lust and emotion was too much for James. Tears fell uncontrollably as he held on to Steve tightly. Arms clambering on Steve’s shoulders, James leaned close to his ear, whispering repeatedly as the blond thrust into him.

“I love you, too.”

X

When James woke up in Steve’s embrace the next morning, he thought about everything that had happened in the last three days and concluded that he had broken the record for the most stupid stunt he’d ever pulled. Not because he'd done something stupid like misusing his youth as he had so often done before; but because what he’d done would hurt the last person in the world who would love him.

Steve's embrace was so strong he couldn’t free himself.

“You can’t free yourself because I’m awake.”

Upon hearing the mind-reading remark, James turned to the man whose eyes were still closed. It seemed like he had no intention of opening them. But the grip on his waist tightened. James pressed his hands against the man’s chest and said, “Steve, I need to shower.”

Steve had cleaned him up with a warm towel last night, and gave him an old shirt that belonged to Steve’s younger adopted brother. The material was soft and not too restrictive to sleep in. That was all James was wearing.

Steve, on the other hand, had taken off his clothes and put on a pair of boxer shorts before going to bed.

Obeying James’ request, Steve loosened his arms and released him. James glanced at the clock when he sat up. It was almost noon, but he didn’t feel hungry at all. He turned to give Steve a quick look and caught the eyes of the blond who had just gotten up. Steve was staring at him, beaming with a smile James had never seen on anyone before.

What he wouldn't give to see that smile again.

James didn't return to the bedroom after showering. He went to the other rooms on the second floor. The room on the south side, filled with sunlight throughout the day, belonged to Steve’s older brother Thor. Unlike Steve’s room, which still contained a lot of his things, Thor’s room only had a bed and a table. The bookshelf was empty.

The room on the other end was the master bedroom. It was evidently bigger, but it didn't even have a bed. In the attic was another room, similar to Steve’s, which still had many things in it. But, unlike Steve’s, they weren't wrapped up meticulously. It was as if the owner of the room had left suddenly, leaving everything behind.

“This is Loki’s room.” Steve had followed him into the room soon after. His footfalls on the stairs weren't heavy like James’, and he appeared next to him almost soundlessly. “Loki Laufeyson. He never came back after leaving the country to study. I’d already left home by then, and no matter how my brother and I pressed on, my foster parents refused to tell us where Loki went. As you can see, I gave you his shirt to wear because he left without taking anything.”

When he had finished talking, Steve tilted his head to give James a morning kiss then proceeded to take some clothes—intimate wear included—from the wardrobe and gave them to him. James took the articles from him and put them on swiftly. He noticed, when he was putting on the underwear and the pair of pants, Steve’s face turned beet red instantly.

“I can’t make you lunch. I’ve been paying the utilities, but not gas because of earthquakes and volcanic activity.” Steve turned to grab a wool cardigan and, ignoring James’ protest, made him wear it. “Let’s go downtown for lunch. We have to walk a little distance, but trust me, it feels great when the sun shines down.”

_This was the city you grew up in, whatever you say._ Feeling a little dry in the throat, James coughed a couple of times.

Steve turned around when he heard the coughing. He leaned forward and dropped a tender kiss on James’ temple. “Wait for me downstairs. We’ll leave right away.”

Steve walked out of the attic quickly and James made his way to the door downstairs as instructed. He passed by the kitchen and decided to pour himself a glass of water. He had just turned on the tap when he heard footsteps coming from behind him. He naturally assumed it was Steve until he saw a man who was as broad as a mountain. Standing next to the man was a tall and slender beauty. They were both regarding James with curiosity.

“Rogers’ date was a man.” The beautiful, black-haired woman glanced at the man at her side. “Volstagg, you should not have told the entire community _she_ was an alluring woman.”

“ _He_ is still alluring, my dear Sif. But if you ask me, he’s a little short.” Grinning, Volstagg extended his hand. “My apologies. I think we are indeed too impetuous. We are Steve’s classmate and neighbor. You must be the passenger on the Harley yesterday? The maintenance of the vehicle is Fandral’s responsibility. Blame it on him if the ride was uncomfortable.”

Doubtful if he should trust the people in front of him, James shook the man’s hand passively.

Next thing he knew, the black-haired woman took his hand and shook it, too.

“Pleasure. But if I were you I wouldn’t drink that. The water here has been stagnant in the pipes for quite some time. If you like, you should fill the glass with water from the bathroom, assuming—” Sif gauged him carefully. “Assuming you used the bathroom yesterday.”

“Sif,” Steve’s defeated voice travelled down from the stairs. “Volstagg, the two of you just won’t give me a break?”

“Fandral wants to know if the tactic he taught you was useful.” Sif glanced at James. “He said he wanted you to carry a condom with you, and let your date find it so you’d give him the hint that you were interested in having sex. That way, you'd not only paint a picture of yourself as a Casanova, you’re being safe and responsible at the same time. He believes you should have benefitted from his advice.”

James had the same thought when he had found those “little tools” last night. Until a certain someone confessed to him that he'd never had any actual experience. “Next time,”—his voice was so raspy he didn’t want to finish the sentence, but the sound he made had the attention of the two newcomers— “please tell your friend next time he should tell Rogers not to reveal his lack of experience in bed if he still wants to pretend to be Prince Charming.”

Taking the black-haired woman’s hand voluntarily, James tried to smile with more affection. “James Barnes. You are?”

“Sif,” Sif replied with a grin. “I will pass it on word for word.”

Steve walked past them seamlessly and came to James’ side and wrapped a scarf around his neck.

“I don’t need to be a Prince Charming.” Steve chuckled. “I told Fandral that I only want him to be happy.”

James’ heart sank into his stomach. If he could turn back time, he would have preferred to drown himself in the shower last night. If he’d made a different decision, he wouldn't have had to hurt Steve. He could have found another way to join the conference between the high executives of SHIELD and Hyatts.

James couldn’t taste his food during breakfast with Steve, Sif, and Volstagg.

Sif and Volstagg shared stories of how Steve had grown up tall and strong because James had unintentionally asked about the blond man’s short stature when he was a kid. He had wanted to ask more questions about Steve himself, but missed the window of opportunity several times because his mind was preoccupied. Steve, on the other hand, only kept his gaze on him throughout the meal. He would sometimes press a kiss to the back of James’ hand, leaving all the talking to Volstagg and Sif. He didn’t even deny the stories of him being beaten up by bullies because he wouldn't run away.

When they boarded the cruise liner, Steve remained at the quarterdeck to say his farewell to Volstagg. Sif wasn't with them. She had taken on the task of returning the wool cardigan to its original place and went back there directly from the café. She’d also taken care of the Harley and the helmets. Volstagg looked like he had something to say to Steve in private, so James boarded the liner first. Standing on 01 level, he looked over at Steve with an entangled ball of guilt in his stomach.

He shouldn’t have said it. No matter what a good man Steve Rogers was; he shouldn’t have told him he loved him.

His love was only useful for exploitation.

James couldn’t wait for Steve another second more, nor could he stay and watch him another second more. He saw Steve looking in his direction, but he chose to walk into the throng of passengers under his watchful gaze.

X

The first thing Steve did when he boarded the liner was look for James. He wanted to tell James the reason he was on board the ship, along with his relationship to Thor. He wanted to tell James everything about himself, including his job, his fortune, his tax matters, and his medical history. Everything. But one minute James was on 01 level, and he was gone the next.

He had never seen anyone who wasn't a crew member so capable of using the intricate passages of a ship.

But Thor found him first before he found James. The captain pulled him into the great cabin.

“Steve,” Thor spoke with the rarely-used authority of an older brother, “the penthouse deck passenger that you liked was James Barnes?”

“Thor, I thought the topic of me liking men had already been discussed when we were sailing the Caribbean Sea—”

“Steve. Barnes: did the name not ring a bell for you?” There was a letter in Thor’s hand. “This dinner party is brimming with sharks, why must you be there?” Seeing the bewildered expression on Steve’s face, Thor opened the envelope and pressed the letter with the captain’s invitation on his chest. “I have yet to sign it. Peggy Carter, the high executive from SHIELD Funds, has personally asked me to send out the invitation. However, I did not fulfill her wish in front of her.”

Steve read the words on the page. It was an exclusive function in one of the private rooms of the sushi restaurant Nobu.

Thor calmed his breathing. In a less severe tone, he said, “He is James Barnes, the eldest son of Silas Barnes. In light of a conflict of interests, he shouldn’t attend this dinner party. James isn't convicted of anything, but Silas is imprisoned for illegal benefits from deficit spending and money laundering. The dinner party is an opportunity for him to secure new capital for his father. He is James Barnes. The James Barnes who is the only Barnes on the Barneses' board of directors. You may be the captain of a cargo ship, but surely you have heard of the case of Silas Barnes?”

The value of Barnes Enterprise hadn't been even a penny when Silas had been exposed. Alexander Pierce was the one who had pulled all the resources to cover the deficit, while Silas tried to take back his company through James Barnes. It was a popular belief that Silas still had some undisclosed accounts hiding overseas, and some captains, rumored to be his trusted aides, had shipped his money to tax havens on cruise liners, and then transferred the money to other places through ghost companies. Several holding companies were brought down by the Barnes case, and many captains were investigated. But most people who were involved were innocent. Thor was unscathed because he wasn't navigating the sea routes used for Silas’ money laundering.

It was also due to Thor’s innocence and his non-association in Silas’ dealings that he was assigned the important task of keeping an eye on James Barnes.

“You’re not going to the dinner party.” Thor took the letter from Steve. “You don’t know anything. I didn’t get Peggy Carter’s request. Everything ends here.”

But Steve looked at him, his expression detached and emotionless. It was an expression Thor hadn't seen since Steve left the army. “So you think the reason I was invited was because James Barnes wants to attend the dinner party?”

Thor had been trying to avoid that implication. He never had much interaction with James, partly because he had to maintain his innocence in Silas’ case, and partly because James regarded him as Pierce’s trusted subordinate. So he had no business with Thor unless the situation called for it. Both Peggy Carter and James Barnes were simply taking what they needed in this ballgame. Peggy wanted to stop Fury from coughing up money to get his fingers on Pierce’s position in Barnes Enterprise. James Barnes wanted to bring in new capital, and if he couldn’t take back the reins, at least he could have access to the position he had been vying for.

“I want the invitation.” Steve folded his arms across his chest calmly. “Or rather,” he looked at Thor, “I need the invitation.”

“Steve—”

“I could only know what he wants from me if I get the invitation.” Steve tried to analyze the situation in the most rational way he could. He also tried to push last night’s memories into the deepest part of his heart to avoid the excruciating, stabbing pain of thinking about them. “I have the invitation. If he goes with me, that means he wants to be at the dinner party. If he doesn’t, then it has nothing to do with him.” He paused for a moment, then continued slowly, “Although I have no doubt that’s impossible.”

This transaction was how Peggy Carter had gotten James Barnes out of his glamorous prison.

James Barnes just had to make Steve agree to go to the dinner party.

James Barnes needed this ticket to the dinner party.

He needed this ticket so much that he was even willing to say to a stray dog that he loved—

— _BANG!_

Steve realized what he’d done when he came back to his senses. Volstagg had given him a hardbound scrapbook that contained all the newspaper clippings about him: who he was, what he’d done, where he’d been to, who he’d saved—before she died, Frigga had kept a neat collection of all the clippings and created a scrapbook for Steve. These were the only memories that had given the orphan a sense of belonging, the memories that he was eager to share with James—and he had thrown the scrapbook at the wall violently.

“He even said he loved me.” Steve hung his head in defeat. He looked at the picture that had fallen out of the scrapbook. It was a family portrait he’d taken with Odin, Frigga, Thor, and Loki. “He described me as a stray dog, how could I believe he even liked me?”

X

Steve wasn't the only person who couldn’t find James. Peggy was also looking for him.

When she finally found the brunet, the dinner party was only an hour away. Peggy had seen Steve standing next to Thor on the bridge when the liner embarked at five that evening. Confused, she found out from the first officer that Steve Rogers had grown up together with Thor Odinson. Just when she thought Thor might not give Steve the invitation, the latter had come to her to ask for the whereabouts of James.

The alarm in her head went off right there and then. Had Steve always known who James was? Rogers wasn't a cruise liner captain, but everyone in the shipping industry knew about Silas. If Rogers had always known, why would he still want to make the acquaintance of James Barnes? If he didn’t know initially, did he know now?

She had decided to pretend that she didn't invite Rogers and was going to avoid him when he stopped her in her tracks without warning.

“Miss Carter.” The blond man gave her a reserved, but polite, smile. He had an invitation in his hand. “I received the invitation that you requested from the captain. I’ve never been to such an occasion before, so I really need James. Could you please let him know I’m waiting for him in the sunroom when you see him?”

When Peggy found James, he was wearing a suit she could imagine him wearing to his wedding with Steve. The fitted black suit was paired with a white dress shirt that looked like satin, but felt like silk. No tie. But James was putting on a pink gold Piguet watch. His hair, which was usually loose by his ears, was held meticulously with hair gel. It would have been more convincing that he was going for a simple meal if he had shown a relaxed and happy smile.

“Barnes, your date is looking for you.”

“I’m going to Prego for dinner tonight.” James gave Peggy a disinterested glance. “There’s this girl. I’ve been trying to get a date with her, I don’t think I could make it for Nobu.”

“Barnes, Steve Rogers is Thor Odinson’s brother.”

James stopped midway through putting on his watch. “Odinson? Isn’t Odinson’s brother the one who warded off the pirates—” He had been stressed out with his father’s lawsuit then and had barely skimmed through the news of the event. “The freight captain of the Howling Commandos.”

“You knew he was Odinson’s brother?”

“Steve?” James shook his head slightly. “His last name isn’t Odinson. He’s an artist.”

“Steve Rogers is the youngest captain the Howling Commandos had in twenty years. He was in the Special Forces.” That was basically what everyone knew. “And you knew Odinson had a brother, but you didn’t know his name?” Peggy looked at James with disbelief. “He’s taking you to the dinner party, he—”

Either Steve didn’t know what was going on, or he was probably waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“—I think we’ll only find out if I go.”

James took off the watch and threw it on the bed. A gazillion possibilities ran through his mind.

 _The entire time,_ thought James as he walked up the stairs leading to the sunroom, opening consecutive pressurized doors that isolated the cold air outside from the interior. What had Steve Rogers been thinking the entire time they were together? Did he find it amusing to see James in a spot? To see him being tortured time and again before his eyes? To see him miserable?

To see him give himself up in exchange for a little pity?

Steve was standing outside the last door, tall and handsome in his all white captain’s uniform. Instead of wearing his cap, it was tucked under his arm.

James didn't see any trace of affection in his eyes. They were sharp, cool, and rational.

It was as if this was the first time they'd met. James felt an ache in the corner of his eyes. Must have been the cold north winds. Turning his head sideways, he broke the silence first. “Captain Rogers, I was told that you need me.”

Steve had imagined several opening lines, he had guessed that James might come up with some hurtful words, but nothing hurt him more those two. Captain Rogers. He let out an involuntary laugh.

James remained silent, standing where he was, looking at the blond man.

“You know,” Steve smiled a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “I preferred it when you called me an artist.”

“You are,” James answered readily, following the flow of the conversation. “You’re accomplished in an art.”

The art of deception.

“I know you want to go inside that door.” Steve slanted his body to look at the sushi restaurant that could be entered from this side of the deck. The sunroom was closed in the evening for safety reasons. Steve had never thought about it, but now he finally understood why James was able to get there without being thrown out by the crew. “And I’m happy to help you.”

“And how should I thank you?” James curled up the corners of his mouth coolly, keeping his facade composed. The wall was coming so close to disintegration.

“Haven’t you thanked me already?” Steve replied lightly. “Last night. I had a good time.”

And James broke. In two strides he walked to Steve and grabbed his arms forcefully. “Have you been enjoying my predicament? Does it amuse you to see me throw myself into your arms? Are you happy to see me caught in a dead end?”

“So you admit to throwing yourself at me.” Steve finally had the confession he didn’t want. “You need another financial backer, and I’m your admission ticket. What? Are you going to sleep with him, too?”

James took a step back and let go of his hands. If he backed down, even just this once, maybe he would have found out how to stop them both from hurting each other that night. But no one had told him that he could. He was a Barnes, and the Barneses never gave in. “If I could, why not?”

Steve nodded. He tried to choke back his emotions, tried not to think about their time together last night, tried not to think—not to think about the sleeping face he had seen that morning. James had had at least three nightmares during the night and they only managed to have a peaceful sleep when Steve held him firmly. He tried not to think about those nightmares being an act—until he was sure that his emotions weren't too overwhelming for him to finish what he wanted to say. Steve finally opened his mouth.

“Part of the Howling Commandos capital comes from the United States Department of Treasury. I have a military background, was even a member of the Special Forces—that's not in record. I’m able to work with the Howling Commandos because the secrets of the U.S. need to be protected, and they trust that I have the ability. I worked all the way from second officer to first officer to captain. I don’t miss military life because I was unhappy. I became a killing machine and I had doubts about myself. When I saw you, I believed that you were looking for a chance to start anew, and I also believed that you were my chance at a new life,” Steve professed evenly. He’d wanted to tell James the story while holding his hands. “Thor strongly advised against going to the dinner party. There’re SHIELD members, which is nothing because they also have money from the government, but there are other…” He lifted his gaze to the eyes that he would be looking at for the last time. “…Other funds, money that you need. Silas Barnes used cruise liners for money laundering. Casinos and boutiques on the liners, he used those facilities to launder his illegal fortune and capital for terrorists.”

James creased his brows upon hearing that.

“I don’t know, and I won’t ask you how much you do know about Silas’ scheme; I don’t want to know, and I don’t need to know,” Steve continued flatly, delivering his words sentence by sentence. “When I take you inside, you might get the capital to revive Silas’ accounts, you might be convicted, or maybe your highly capable legal team will get you acquitted. And when the trial is in procedure, I will be included in the investigation. Maybe you know that already. Whether I’m convicted or not, my career with the Howling Commandos will be finished and I’m fine with that.” Steve looked at the toes of his shoes and tried to convince himself that he didn’t care. “I have a skill that no one can take away from me and I’m not proud of it. Everyone has a skill that they’re not proud of. So do I, and I have no problem with making a living out of it again. Basically, I won’t be out on the streets, I won’t be a stray dog again. Maybe you care, maybe you don’t.”

He moved forward without looking at James’ eyes. He had once thought that he would gaze into that pair of eyes for the rest of his life; but now he didn't have the courage to do so. He was afraid to see the unconcealed sarcasm in them.

“But the choice lies with you. I’m willing to go in with you if you choose to. Not because you had sex with me, not because I pity you; I'll give you this if this is what you want.”

Steve walked a few steps, standing side by side with James, but facing a different direction. If James turned around—he didn’t have to touch Steve, or hug Steve—it would be good enough for him to believe that James had been used by Silas, and that he knew nothing of Silas’ plot. But if James moved forward, then he would also turn around, walk into the restaurant with him, and then leave.

Either way, he would lose James forever, except he would lose more if James chose the latter.

James turned sideways to study Steve Rogers’ back. He contemplated for a second, or maybe longer. At that moment, Steve lost all sense of his body. Just like a watch that had stopped, he couldn’t move forward, nor could he move backward.

Then James walked forward and made his way into the dark, empty passage. He heard Steve’s footsteps catching up with him from behind. And when he came to the door of the restaurant, Steve opened it for him.

X

Later that evening, Thor gave Steve a letter forwarded by Peggy. The letter wasn't in an envelope. It wasn't even folded. It was a napkin with words scribbled on it:

_Captain Steve Rogers,_

_I am grateful to you. What I’ve said to you, I meant every single word._

_James Benjamin Barnes_

Steve heard that a chopper had flown from Iceland to catch up with the Symphony. The Crystal Suite, in which James Benjamin Barnes had been staying, had been empty ever since.

Before disembarking, Thor wanted Steve to go to the Crystal Suite.

He found, at the head of the bed, the blue-checkered handkerchief which had been washed. On top of it lay a leather-strapped Chopard watch with engravings on the back that said: C.S.G.R.

X

When the Andromeda was sailing across the open seas of Somalia, Steve received a piece of information transmitted from a satellite signal.

It was news about James Barnes. He had released all of the details of his father’s accounts and had exposed the list of corresponding terrorist organizations.

Hydra and Alexander Pierce’s ghost companies had dealings with ill-gotten money that included blood diamonds from the previous century, and funds used to launder said diamonds. It wasn't too serious and Pierce was prepared to be exposed. He knew that Silas would give him away, but he just needed to buy himself more time to make arrangements for his take off. He was neither a good guy nor a bad guy. He was just another man in a hierarchy following orders for all the wrong reasons.

Nick Fury and SHIELD’s capital were scrutinized. As it involved intelligence funds from the British and U.S. governments, it was strongly denounced by the people of both countries, and demanded that SHIELD must be placed under the jurisdiction of the financial institutions from both countries. SHIELD would manage its funds openly and never be allowed privatization.

Steve learned more about other things when he returned to Iceland from his latest stint at sea.

Peggy had married to a British actuary. Steve knew the man. He used to work for the Howling Commandos.

Thor found the disappeared Loki on the seas. Someone told him that Loki did go back to Iceland, but Steve didn't see him when he returned.

And James Barnes?

James had gone missing after exposing all the information related to the funding of terrorist organizations. No one knew which country’s witness protection program he was under, or if he’d been silenced by terrorists. Nobody knew, and there was no way of knowing. Apart from that piece of news, and the picture used in the report, no one had seen James Barnes at all.

Meanwhile, all the evidence indicated that James wasn't the middleman everyone thought him to be. In fact, he knew nothing at all.

X

Steve found the time to go on a trip to Switzerland. He had looked up Margaret and Jasper Barnes and learned that they were studying in a boarding school there. He knew that whatever the reasons for James’ disappearance, the two minors wouldn't be informed. He didn't intend to talk to them; he just wanted to see them in their classrooms from afar.

It was early in the morning when he arrived in Switzerland. Steve stepped out of Gare de Cornavin, found the rental car that was already parked in the parking lot, and began his journey up north to the boarding school where the Barnes siblings were housed. Switzerland in early spring was still chilly, but the landscape of the countryside was just as beautiful. He stopped on the way to get some bottled water and it took him one and a half hours to get to a destination that was only thirty minutes away.

He had pulled some strings and made an agreement with the school that he was there to talk about his job as a freight captain.

Even though it was likely that the parents of boarding school children had their own shipping companies.

Steve’s talk was the last school event before the Easter holidays. The students would assemble to attend his talk in the afternoon, and he had obviously arrived too early. But the headmaster invited him enthusiastically to wait on the long bench outside his office while he asked the director of school operations to show him around before getting ready for the speech. The director was also an alumnus with expansive knowledge in freight shipping. They would have a good chat.

If he had known there was going to be a tour of the school, he wouldn't have put on his captain’s uniform first. Steve waited outside impatiently. He noticed, on the bulletin board, a poster about Cornell University, and he thought he could almost make out the vague impression of a familiar face on the poster. His yearning for him must have been playing tricks on him.

“Captain Steve Rogers.”

Steve remembered that voice. He had lost count of the times he had fantasized about hearing it, only to realize time after time that he had mistaken another person for that man.

“That’s me.”

He turned around without any expectations until he saw him standing there, looking at him with a smirk.

“I’m the director of school operations of Institut Le Rosey. James Buchanan. Le Rosey is an education institution funded by a private education foundation. As far as you’re concerned, where would you like to start?”

X

Regret didn't begin to describe how Steve felt when he had heard that James had presented all the evidence. He had tried not to make any harsh judgments about a situation he didn't fully understand, but the thought of being used had been too painful for him. Even when he had blurted all the accusations, he had been thinking about the man who had slept next to him that morning. Come to think of it, James had always been like that. Fragile and yet cruel at the same time. Steve had thought that the fragility was just a façade to get him to let down his guard. James had only wanted Steve Rogers. Hero of the United States. A guest whom everyone wanted to invite to a party.

Steve didn't regret many things, and one of them was leaving James in the restaurant after he’d spoken a few pleasantries with those people.

“The captain thinks he needs my professional opinion. I really wish I could sit down and have dinner with you, but Mr. Barnes will speak with you on my behalf. I believe he has more relevant views to share with you, and he's definitely better company than I am.”

Then he withdrew his hand from the man’s shoulder just before it began to tremble, and left.

If only he had turned around to see James’ profile one more time. If only.

The enduring and aching process of yearning began when Steve went back to work. He didn't take the watch, but neither did Thor throw it away. One day when he was on Skype with Thor, he noticed that Thor had kept the watch in his office on the Symphony. Thor told him pragmatically that A.) the watch was invaluable, and B.) Steve would definitely regret his decision.

When Steve returned to London, he didn't mention a single word about regret to Thor, but Thor had patted his shoulder and gave him the watch. From that day onward, Steve never took it off except when taking a shower. He wouldn't risk damaging the leather strap.

He was glad that he was wearing the watch when he saw James. The brunet had taken a glimpse of it.

“You're an alumnus? I thought you grew up in New York?” Steve wanted to kiss James, but there were students and employees walking past them, and he didn’t want to get James into trouble. They were halfway into the tour before he came up with that irrelevant question.

James turned his head sideways to look at him, an expression of deep thought on his face. After several moments, he replied slowly, “I was born in New York and I’m also an alumnus. Have we met before, Captain Rogers?”

Suddenly, Steve couldn’t find the words for his next sentence.

“Jim, who is this?” A beautiful brunette in a pink, soft knit dress appeared. She sauntered to James’ side and smiled at Steve, but not before hooking her arm around James’ arm and leaning her head on his shoulder intimately.

“Margarita, darling, this is Captain Steve Rogers. We were talking about how he seemed to know me.” James looked at Steve with a bashful smile. “This is my fiancée, Margarita Misonne. She’s also an alumna, and a board member of the school. She’s one of your admirers and she’s here to attend your talk. So am I.”

Margarita widened her eyes. “I’ve heard so much about his accomplishments, I thought I would see a mutant with superhuman powers. I didn’t expect an American sweetheart.” She scrutinized Steve from head to toe with disdain. James stood next to her without uttering a word, his eyes fleeting to the corridor behind Steve.

The air between the three of them went still because Steve couldn't find any words to respond.

It was Margarita who gave up first. She tucked the purposefully loose strands of hair behind her ears, and smiled disappointedly. “I give up, Jim. He has no reaction at all, it’s no fun.”

“I told you already not to do that.” James re-directed his sights to Steve once again, a faint smile on his face. “Allow me do the introduction again. Captain Rogers, Margarita Misonne. We were in a meeting with the board of directors; she’s just been elected the next director of school operations. We were still in the meeting and she came to see you because she’s heard so much about you. The rest was made up. My apologies if we’ve upset you.”

Steve let his eyes wander left and right between the brunette and the calm looking James Barnes.

After a long moment, Steve took a deep breath and nodded his head. “So… first girlfriend?”

“No, his first girlfriend was the daughter of a Russian oil tycoon.” Margarita walked to James’ side and hooked his arm intimately like she had before and whispered into his ear. She looked upon Steve Rogers approvingly as the blond squinted his eyes, contemplating the series of events that had transpired. “If I were you, James, I wouldn’t come and see him.”

“Darling, you’ve already given away too much.” Removing himself from Margarita’s embrace carefully, James planted a kiss on each of her cheeks. “And you promised me that the tour would be just between him and me. The tour is about to begin, you should let us go.”

“If I were you, I really wouldn’t see him. Do you want to move back to the States?” Margarita looked annoyed.

“No, I don’t. I only managed to pay the tuition for two after selling my mother’s property. We have nowhere to live in the States.” James shrugged. “Come on, you still have several proposals to read; there are expansion and maintenance expenses waiting for your approval. Leave us alone, please?”

“Whatever.” The brunette turned to Steve, who was standing like a statue off to the side. “You shouldn’t have come. A one-night stand is good enough, why must you come all the way here? You two are from different worlds.”

James growled in a low voice, “Rita!”

The woman glowered at him. “I’m telling the truth, James, we’ve talked about it.”

Steve stepped in and enfolded James into his embrace from behind. “Miss Misonne, I’d be grateful if you let us be alone. I have so much to say to Mr. Buchanan.”

When Margarita finally agreed to leave, James extricated himself easily from Steve’s embrace.

He cocked his head, motioning Steve to catch up with him as if nothing had happened. “Come on, let me show you around.”

Steve followed obediently. They walked side by side along the brown yellow walls, passed by a cluster of buildings and came to a wide, open field.

“We have weekly assemblies, each one for a different purpose. This time we’ve invited you to do a talk, of course, under the recommendation of Mr. Stark, the most outstanding inventor in America. Or threat, depending on how you interpret the rationale behind a tidy sum of cash donated to our private institution.” James regarded the man next to him with amusement. “I’m curious. It seems that, when necessary, your tolerance for the usage of a large sum of money is quite inconsistent, Captain Rogers.”

“Stark did go a little overboard.” Steve nodded with understanding. “But I don’t—”

“You wanted to see Jasper and Margaret. Why?” James smoothed his hair, blown messy by the wind. “They’ll be fine. Even if the Barneses ceased to be, even supposing I died, they won't be homeless. For the man whom you’d only slept with for one night, your concern for his family is redundant, Captain Rogers.”

Steve felt a stabbing pain in his heart. With a staggering voice, he replied slowly, “You are not just a man I slept with for one night, James, you're my life partner.”

James gazed at him quietly. “Are we going to wipe what happened that night from our memories?” That night in which promises were broken?

“I’m sorry I didn’t even let you explain.” Steve took James’ hands. “I should have. I’m jerk.”

“I didn’t have much to say at that time anyway. Action speaks louder than words, right?” James let Steve hold his hands without resistance. His gaze was intent. “We can never erase the fact that I exploited you, it’s an undeniable truth. And because of that, we’ll never get over it, Steve. You won’t be able to convince yourself. The person who lays next to you everyday had once used his body in exchange for your affection to get what he wanted.” James squeezed his hands before letting go. “For that I’m grateful that you’re here, I’m doing good and so are you. We should go our separate ways from here.”

“Are you rejecting me because I hurt you?” The answer would always be more complicated than that; but if that was one of the reasons, he could work with it. “I acted cruelly because I couldn’t believe that you had manipulated me. Peggy told me afterwards that you didn’t have any idea who I was, you thought I was just an ordinary—”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did use you. Your looks, everything about you was sufficient to make you the talking point of those rich people. They were probably in awe that public education could produce a respectable man like you, that an impressive man could come from a foster home, and so forth. They’d raise you a toast, talk to you, but once you were gone, they’d rake you over the coals with all sorts of ugly words. Not exactly crude, but entirely ruthless and vicious. And that’s the kind of person I am, that’s the world I grew up in. I’m not kind, and I know those behaviors are wrong, but I’ll always be like that. The things I say unintentionally are the most hurtful because that’s the essence of who I am, Steve—”

_It won’t work out between us._

“James, are you afraid of getting hurt?” Steve looked at him. “You’re afraid. Is that why you’re driving me away?”

“Can you hurt me any more?” James returned his gaze. He was afraid of Steve getting hurt.

“I’m not afraid of getting hurt, James.”

Once again, Steve had voiced his private thoughts. James checked his urge to touch him. He told himself calmly to hold back. Think. He could come up with more nasty things to say to scare Steve off; he just needed more time to think.

“I don’t need your protection, James. I’m the one with a Special Forces background, I can protect you.” Steve inched forward and trapped James in his arms and lowered his head to press his lips against the brunet’s temple. “To quote your favorite metaphor, I’m not a stray dog, sweetheart. I’m a well trained military canine, always ready to fight for you.”

James couldn’t hold back. He reached out his arms and hugged the man.

X

“This is Steve. Margaret, Jasper, this is Captain Steve Rogers. He's going to talk to you afterwards.”

Jasper didn't look a bit like James. The outline of his face wasn't as chiseled as his big brother's. It was evident that Jasper and Margaret looked more like each other than James. “It’s a pleasure.”

Steve extended a hand to the two tall and slender, but solemn looking, teenagers standing before him. The boy took a look at James, who was smiling, and shook Steve's hand. The girl followed suit when the boy let go.

“Say hello, you two.” James looked at his siblings who were sizing up Steve silently. “Say something.”

“How do you do? You’re American. Are you poor? Are we going to transfer and move back to the States with you?”

Steve was stunned by the girl’s straightforward and presumptive method of questioning. “Eh, I—”

“You’re my brother’s boyfriend.” The boy’s tone and phrasing was composed. “We knew. Rita just told us.”

“If you don’t want to move to New York, I have a house in Reykjavik,” Steve replied earnestly. He stooped a little to look at them at eye level. “If you like it here, I can also buy a house in Geneva. I may not be an oil tycoon, but I can afford to take care of you.”

“But we have a house in Geneva. You don’t have to buy a house if you live with us,” the girl pointed out sincerely. “But Rita said that you’re taking us back to New York because you’re also an American.”

“What else did Rita say?” Steve had no idea how much the brunette knew about him, but all these years he wasn't exactly living hand to mouth in poverty. “I’m good at making money. Although I can’t promise you’ll live a better life, at least I can keep you stable.”

“Can you please not discuss this when I’m here?” Not liking where the topic was heading, James interrupted them. “Both of you, apologize to Steve. Whether he’s rich or not has nothing to do with you. I’m the one responsible for your living. We’re not going anywhere. Geneva is our home, we’re not going back to New York.”

“I like New York.” Jasper sighed. “I like our house in the Hamptons.”

“I don’t care, I like the Athena.” Margaret looked at Steve. “Have you seen the Athena? It’s James’ yacht. James took us back to Geneva in his yacht every weekend.”

Steve was delighted. He patted Margaret’s head gently. Her soft brown hair felt like silk. “I’ve never seen the Athena, but I sail a boat. I have a ship; she’s more than ten times bigger than the Athena. You can sail on my ship if you like. We depart from London. Would you like that?”

“James, can we?” Jasper had heard stories about Steve. He was eager to be on board a freight ship.

“I can’t promise you that,” James replied gently. “It may not seem so, but I’m indeed under witness protection. At least I can’t.”

“I promise to keep them safe,” Steve gave him his word. His eyes were full of expectation. “How’s that?”

“After Easter vacation. If you think you can handle them, then we can talk.” In a way, he had answered the question of spending a vacation together before meeting Jasper and Margaret.

“Will we be spending Easter together?” Margaret hugged James excitedly. “And Steve, too?”

“If both of you have no problem with that.” Steve gave Jasper a tentative look. It was apparent that the boy wasn't as excited as his sister about the information. “What do you think, Jasper?”

“Certainly.” Jasper looked up at Steve. “So you’re a captain, does that mean you’ll not be with my brother as often?”

“I’m afraid so,” Steve answered truthfully. “But I promise I’ll think about him when I’m not around.”

The boy nodded. “Good. Then you can spend the holidays with us. We’ll talk about going to the freight ship if you get along with us.”

“Young man, it’s up to me to decide for you.” A little displeased, James pulled his brother to his chest. “You’re not going anywhere if you misbehave. I heard about what you did on Gastaad Campus. For now, you go back to your seat for the assembly. I’ll speak with you later. You, too.” He disentangled himself from his sister who was all over him, and pushed her a little. “Go.”

X

They spent the entire vacation on Lac Léman. The children had long ago learned how to take care of themselves on the yacht. Keeping the hours in school, they woke up at seven every morning, showered, and then prepared a simple breakfast. Sometimes Steve and James would leave their cabin late in the morning, and Jasper and Margaret were already revising their schoolwork.

Jasper excelled in school. James had explained to Steve that Jasper wished to enroll in the Glion Institute of Higher Education, and perhaps work for one of the hotel groups—in which the Barneses held some shares—in the future. The Barneses were a big family. James’ uncles might not approve of his father’s deeds, but they wouldn't leave a family member in the lurch. As for Margaret, she wanted to go to Cornell and study business just like James.

Every evening after taking their shower, they would sit on the deck and talk, and everyday Steve felt he knew more about James.

James was like a neatly transcribed Bible with colorful pictures for him to leaf through.

Steve kissed the scar that was covered by James’ hair, the one that was a souvenir from a skiing accident in the Alps. Steve bit the red star, the one that James had tattooed when he flew back to Bar Harbor alone after his break up with his classmate Natalia Romanoff, who was now the C.E.O. of Russia’s largest petroleum company. James would smile through his orgasms, the only time he cried was that night in Reykjavik, and Steve promised James that he would never mention what had happened on the Symphony because it was all in the past. James’ favorite band was The Beatles, and he told Steve that John Lennon’s son was a few years his senior, also an alumnus of Le Rosey. James was sensitive to Steve’s beard and he trembled every time when Steve licked him gently. James wasn't picky about food and he ate everything except escargot. He used to sulk when the school had escargot for the appetizer. James’ best subject was Russian and the reason was obvious to Steve. To avoid listening to James talk about how he used to practice Russian with his ex-girlfriend, Steve would kiss one part of James’ body and tell him its name in Icelandic in front of his siblings everyday. Of course, it was all within the acceptable limits of decency for minors.

Most of the time, they would sail across the lake between Switzerland and France for meals. Sometimes Steve would cook for them.

They all agreed Steve was good enough to be the chef of a restaurant.

When they sat together for dinner, Steve would tell them stories about himself growing up; but Jasper’s favorite story was about how Steve had subdued and disarmed the Somalia pirates with his bare hands. Steve was a terrible storyteller and James would tease him for the different versions of how the pirates had climbed up the ship using the cables on the outer hull of the ship. But to Jasper, Steve was the fearless hero who was afraid of nothing.

In the night, every time after he hugged James, Steve would bury his head in James’ chest and listen to the steady thump of his heart.

Steve would tell James stories about his service in the Special Forces. The people he had killed, or those whose families he had destroyed, the innocent young shepherd who had stumbled into the scene of their secret op, the woman who had bombs tied around her, reciting the Koran while sitting in a trap, the armed gunmen shooting at them with machine guns, and the crying elderly tribesman who wanted them to pay the price.

Steve had crossed paths with many people and many things in his life: innocent lives, cruel wars, and messy blood. They all left a mark on him. At first he thought he could save the world, but ended up disappointed. Yet he still believed there were things that he could do, people whom he could protect, which was why he went back to the States to serve with a sense of duty, and was still able to leave with a sense of purpose.

“I want to protect you, James. I’ll always stay with you, if you allow me.”

“Steve Rogers, you never take no for an answer, do you?”

X

When the vacation was over, Steve accompanied James to take Jasper and Margaret back to school. Margaret hugged Steve tightly, reluctant to let go. She made Steve promise that he would come back soon and wait for them at the school’s entrance to spend the weekend with them, and that he would take her and Jasper to London to see the Andromeda during the long vacation.

Jasper wanted Steve to promise him that he would take him to play ice hockey during the holidays.

After that, Steve went back to James’ apartment in Geneva and they spent the whole day cuddling.

James refused to see him off at the airport, so they said their goodbyes at the apartment door.

When he left the apartment, Steve was already thinking about when the next vacation would be.

He stroked the watch on his wrist. It was a simple Seiko watch, affordable on James' salary as a finance consultant, and it had the same initials C.S.G.R. engraved on the back. They bought it one afternoon when they were taking a walk in Geneva, and Jasper had chosen the watch. Steve took it as a sign that he was now part of the family, and gave James back the watch that was given to him initially.

Steve glanced down at the watch, trying to pick up the turning of the gears, the tic-tock of the second hand through the clamorous noise of the plane engine, and he thought about how he was finally wrapped up in the life of James Barnes, moving languidly with him, drifting quietly with time—


	2. Epilogue: In Bar Harbor

Steve loved everything about his life with James since they got together. Just as he had thought, he was the missing piece in the Barneses’ jigsaw puzzle.

With James' younger siblings, Steve and James lived like a couple that had been married for twenty years with two teenage children. When he was in Geneva, Steve was essentially busy all day long. Although his cooking skills were undoubtedly better than James', who had grown up having a family chef cook for him, Steve still had to deal with children who were picky with food. Luckily, James played the part of a strict father, making sure that the young sir and the young miss finished all the nutritious food on their plates, such as the okra.

“Jimmy, there’s sticky stuff in it, it’s gross!” Margaret took a bite and looked at the food in her plate with fear.

“It’s good for you.” James frowned.

“Steve, can I not eat this?” The little girl attached herself to the blond man's arm and pleaded. “Please?”

“Finish it.” Without looking at them, James tilted his head in the direction of the living room to watch the financial news on the television.

“You heard your brother.” Steve took the opportunity when James turned his head and used his fork to put the okra into his mouth and then he nudged the girl’s arm.

Margaret took the hint and pretended to complain about the taste of the food. “It’s so disgusting, why do I have to eat it?”

Steve grinned at her, but when he turned his head, he saw James scrutinizing the two of them. James looked at the young boy who had been watching the entire process, then shifted his vision. “Jasper, who ate the okra?”

“Maggie,” the boy replied without apprehension. He gave the okra on his plate to Steve when James was looking at the stock market.

Steve finished the okra without hesitation. When he was done, he stood up and gathered the dishes, ready to wipe them down for the dishwasher. Right then James turned to stop him and took over the chore; but he didn’t let his siblings off the hook. Under his supervision, the children cleaned their own plates, and cleared off the dining table, wiping it clean with a dishtowel.

While Jasper and Margaret were dutifully doing as they were told, Steve leaned on the wall and watched James set the dishwasher.

They were sending the children to the Barnes’ family mansion in Chicago that evening to participate in a family social. James couldn’t care less about interacting with his relatives, but his siblings had a future. It would do them good to meet the relatives. James was uninterested in going to the party. He was old enough and his future would be the same as it was now.

With summer coming to its height, and Steve on a break between assignments, James had taken a long vacation after promising his clients that he would keep in touch with them. It was rare, but Interpol had temporarily lifted the alarm on his personal safety, so Steve asked him what he wanted to do. Of course James wanted to go back to the States, but not New York since there was nothing left for him to reminisce about there.

He told Steve he wanted to go to Bar Harbor.

Steve was baffled. Bar Harbor was a little place in Maine. The lobsters there may have been sumptuous, but the nasty weather deterred tourists from visiting. Tourists came to Bar Harbor because it was the place where cruise ships stopped over for preparations before leaving America. Most cruise ship passengers only visited the main street without going further. Bar Harbor was a rustic town, classic and simple. The streets and architecture still retained the colonial essence that was typical of harbor towns in Northeast America.

And so, several weeks before the trip, Steve had arranged for a truck to deliver the Athena to the Howling Commando’s freight ship in Hamburg and then ship the yacht to Bar Harbor.

Two days later, they arrived at Bar Harbor. They lived in the yacht since James had sold his mother’s house.

James took Steve to have a look at the house that was at the end of the main street. The house hadn't fetched a good price. He had sold it to raise enough money to buy him a seat on the board of directors of the school so that he could be done with ever-increasing tuition for good.

“Shall we buy the house back?” Steve planted a kiss on James’ forehead. “Give me two, three years.”

“What for?” James returned the affection. “I have the Athena and that’s good enough. Less taxation to handle.” 

Many shop owners on the main street recognized James. The boss of a water sports equipment shop at the crossroads saw him when he came out for a smoke. “Jimmy?”

“Joe.” James smiled and went to hug the middle-aged man. He gestured for Steve to come over. “Joe, this is Steve, my boyfriend.”

“You’ve finally come back with someone, eh?” The man also gave Steve a hug. “Are you settling down? But I heard you’ve sold the Cross’ house.”

“It makes me sad to live in the house after Rose’s passing,” James explained impassively. “It’s more meaningful for another family to have it and create new memories.”

“Of course.” The man patted Steve’s shoulders, but he directed his questions at James. “Not taking your boy to sea? You still have a boat? Didn’t sell the Athena, did you?”

“I am taking him to sea, and I still have the Athena.” James looked at Steve. “Joe is saying that I should take you to sea to see the humpback whales that pass by this time of the year.”

Steve nodded. “That’s worth a visit.”

“You’ve even shown your boy your safe haven.” Joe took a good look at the blond man from head to toe. Seeing Steve's harmless smile, the middle-aged man returned the smile with assurance. “I’m sure you’re a good man.”

After saying goodbye to Joe, James guided Steve to a corner and a Subway appeared before them.

Appreciating James’ sense of humor, Steve kissed the man tucked to his chest. He was about to enter the restaurant when James pulled him back. “We’re not having that. There’s a seafood restaurant a few blocks down. Let’s go for some lobsters. Why have bread when the seafood here is really good?”

Steve gazed at the man in his arms, who had a laid-back smile. This was a side of James Barnes he had never seen. “You also have this small town boy side to you?”

“I’m two faced.” James took a flyer someone had given to him and hid half of his face behind the piece of paper. He laughed after saying that. Smoothing his loose bangs, he continued. “I didn’t go to the Hamptons during summer vacations. Only sometimes. I’d go when people invited me to some crazy parties. Most of the time, I’d come back here and go to sea in my yacht. It’s quiet on the sea. The waters are choppy, but it’s quiet.”

They came to the entrance of the seafood restaurant. When the woman at the door met James’ eyes, her expression was one of astonishment.

“James?”

“Patricia.” James blinked and kissed her cheeks excitedly. “Wow, you’re back to Bar Harbor.”

The woman was quick to notice the hand that was resting on James’ shoulder. It wasn't a we're-best-friends kind of gesture with the hand on the inner shoulder, but a he-belongs-to-me kind of gesture with his arm across James’ back and hand resting on James' outer shoulder. She got the message and smiled at the owner of that hand.

“Hello, handsome! James, is this your friend?”

“Boyfriend,” James admitted without hesitation. He had also noticed the hand on his shoulder. “Any table available?”

“Of course. What about a table by the window?” She grinned at Steve. “Sit with him for the entire lunch and you’ll meet everyone.”

Steve didn't understand what she meant by everyone at first, but after sitting there for three hours with people coming to say hi to them every five minutes, he realized this wasn't just a small town, but also a place that James really cared about. Compared to Geneva and New York, Bar Harbor was his home.

“You are a small town boy.” Steve gazed at his boyfriend, who was enjoying his lobster. “Why pretend to be a New Yorker?”

“I am a New Yorker.” James squeezed some lemon on the grilled lobster. “I don’t have to pretend. But this is where I can be myself.” He wiped his hands with a napkin, picked up the lobster meat with a fork, and lifted it to Steve’s mouth. “Try it. It’s delicious.”

Steve munched on the meat heartily. The juicy and tasty flavor prompted him to size up the plate of lobsters before him. “This is really good.”

“There used to be two types of people around me.” James carried on taking apart the lobster with his fork and knife. He lifted the knife, waving it a little. “Those from the Upper East Side and those from here. I have to be around the people over there, I’m undeniably one of them. But it’s another thing that I find them disagreeable. It’s like—” after considering the right word, he said nonchalantly, “—self-loathing.” He put another piece of meat in Steve’s mouth.

Steve ate the meat willingly and listened to him without interrupting.

“The people here are like you.” James looked into Steve’s eyes. “They would never hurt me, that’s why I like them; and so, I like you.” Another piece of lobster meat. Steve ate obediently. James cocked his head and smiled approvingly. “You should do that at home. Listen to me, Rogers, don’t encourage the children with their picky eating.”

“I didn’t,” Steve denied playfully.

“That’s a blatant lie,” James said disapprovingly and took a sip of his Pepsi Cola. “I saw it out of the corner of my eye.”

“Well, if you’d be good and concentrate on your food instead of getting distracted with the stock market, I wouldn’t have had the opportunity.” Steve moved the rest of the lobster to his side, and took the fork and knife from James. It was his turn to fawn over James. He started to take apart the lobster.

James couldn’t help but laugh, then he remembered Steve’s words about his living skills that he wasn't proud of.

“I’ll cook lobster for you, if you like.” Steve looked at James’ smiling eyes, happily curved like two new moons. On the spur of the moment, he leaned forward to kiss him. “Are we going back to the Athena? Aren’t you taking me whale watching?”

They passed by a store on their way back. James took out a shopping list to check over the dry foods and canned foods they needed to get. Steve played the role of an errand boy, moving between the shelves to pick up the things James wanted. He came to a sudden halt when he saw a display of condoms, and looked over at James.

“We’ll be on the sea for some time. You said it’d be good for me if you wear them, didn’t you?” James walked to Steve and put a hand on his shoulder. With a conspiring tone, he reminded Steve, “Take one.”

Steve sighed dramatically. He turned around and raised his brow. “Are you sure one box is enough?”

Startled by the rare comeback, James smirked. “I don’t know, what do you say?”

Steve leaned to his ear and whispered, “You know I can do this all day.”

James burst out laughing involuntarily, laying his head on Steve’s shoulders as if he’d just heard the funniest joke. Steve knew James loved to make fun of his stamina. Even though it was just that one time they had gone overboard. Steve remembered having to lie to the two teenagers who were home for the weekend, saying James was in bed because he was down with a cold and fever.

After spending some time lingering in front of the freezer, James finally decided to pick up a carton of milk. Steve looked at him and said encouragingly, “Take it. It’s not every day you don’t have to make an exception for Maggie. Just take it.”

“I’ve not had milk for a long time.” James held onto the carton with a smile. “We knew not long after she was born.” He peered down at the familiar logo, lost in thought. “She’s been taking malt extract ever since. We never had milk for that reason and I got used to taking black coffee after that.” The corners of his lips wavered a little. James turned to look at Steve. “Allergies can be serious, so is her condition. Dehydration in babies is no laughing matter, and we’ve always been very cautious.”

He had always been cautious in taking care of his siblings because he was the eldest son. According to his father, he was the eldest son whom he was proud of, the successor of his empire, the prince of Barnes Enterprise.

Or a fool. Foolish enough to believe everything a criminal had said, foolish enough to vindicate a criminal.

James frowned. He put the milk back into the freezer and bumped into Steve when he turned around. Steve was baffled by James’ reaction, but he saw the tightly knitted brows. He took the milk and put it into the basket. Tucking James to his chest, Steve ruffled his hair and said, “Don’t think too much. Let’s get back to the yacht.”

Fog began to build up when they got to open waters. Steve turned on the radar and surveyed the ships nearby attentively.

Getting a carton of milk had made James pensive and withdrawn.

Steve switched on the fog signal and left the bridge to go to the back. He found James in a windbreaker, standing by the stern. The brunet was looking into the distance, his eyes shrouded with a cloud of somberness. He did that when his siblings were too far away from him. Steve couldn’t help but wonder how Silas had taught his son? The importance of Jasper and Margaret to James was inconceivable. When they weren't anywhere near him, even if they had only moved to the winter campus of the boarding school, James would be gloomy for an entire day.

James’ windbreaker was moistened with fog, wet and cool. Steve walked to him and enveloped him from behind, pressing a loving kiss on his cheek.

That evening, James told Steve a story about a stray dog. James once had a stray dog in Bar Harbor. He had found it one summer when he visited Bar Harbor and he had spent the entire summer taking care of it. Cleaned it, groomed it, and even taught it dog tricks like catch and sit and shake hands. Jasper was allergic to dogs, so Rose didn't permit James to bring the dog back to New York, not even the Hamptons.

Jasper and Margaret hardly ever came to Bar Harbor. It was too humid in summer and too cold in winter. The coastal town eventually became James’ safe haven when he wanted to run away from everything in New York, which was why Rose had allowed him to keep the dog there. James had left the dog to the care of their neighbors when he left for Cornell. On that fateful day, James had just gotten into the limousine that had come to get him. The chauffeur was reversing the car when the dog came charging out. It was too late by the time the man realized what had happened. He had run over the dog and killed it instantly. It was an accident. James’ upbringing didn't allow him to lash out at the chauffeur; his upbringing also forbade him from crying over trivial matters like that. He was twenty years old, why should a young man like him cry over a dog?

They only cuddled that night because James wasn't in the mood to do anything else.

He was more downcast after telling the story. From the red lights shining from outside, Steve could see the tiredness on his face.

The issue of Rose and Silas had become a dead knot in James’ heart. The theory that Silas might have had a hand in Rose’s alleged suicide only made things worse for James. He tried not to think about it when he was with his siblings, but when he was alone or with Steve, his thoughts would drift to that issue unintentionally. 

Bar Harbor only evoked mixed feelings.

“When I was just a kid, and Silas still didn’t have full authority over the company, he was just a rich guy and Rose was his beautiful young wife. I was probably a topic for them to talk about with the folks here. We used to come here a lot when my grandfather was still alive. Silas met Rose here. Rose…” James drew his arms tighter around Steve. “I always came here alone after turning fifteen, and then when I was eighteen, I would leave Cornell and come here for the summer. This was my destination while New York was just a relay station. My dream was to find a girl here and get married just like Silas.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

James smirked when he saw that. Steve got jealous so easily. If James didn't tell everyone they met that the blond was his boyfriend, he would probably have had to suffer through Steve’s incessant complaints.

“Patricia?” Steve grunted.

James smiled. “One evening when I was eighteen. Obviously, I let her down.”

The truth was, for a small town girl, the boy who only showed up in the summer didn't promise anything. He might not be there the next summer. It was foolish to invest feelings in him, especially when he sometimes appeared with souvenirs from New York: a sweet smell on his crumpled suit, the smell of weed.

“I ended up with a New Yorker eventually.” James settled himself on Steve’s chest with satisfaction. “A poor kid from Brooklyn.”

Steve didn't say anything. Seeing the man in his arms was more cheerful now, he held him even tighter.

X

The sun had just risen when Steve woke up with a startle. He only slept like a baby when he was with James, otherwise even a slightly stronger wind would wake him up as if sensing a bad omen, leaving him unsettled.

 _James does have some skills,_ Steve thought as he regarded the empty bed. James could pick his pockets and leave the room without waking him. Sometimes when there was no one in Jasper or Margaret’s room—yes, James could be a very clingy big brother—Steve would find him sleeping in Jasper’s bed, hugging the boy’s blanket. 

It was still early in the day. When Steve arrived on the bridge, he found the brunet, clad in a jacket and a pair of short pants, biting on a pen, checking the conditions of the territorial waters nearby as he referred to the map he’d borrowed from one of the whale-watching boatmen.

The sight was dizzying to Steve. He had to blink several times before regaining his composure. If James coming out of the bank wearing the corporate suit to have lunch with him had once been his favorite moment, then this view before him was going to replace it. James hated that outfit, but when he had consulting appointments with his clients, he had to wear the brown tweed suit which he had mocked by saying, “Even the uniform of the Swiss mercenaries in the Vatican look better than this.”

Steve had thought that he was in love with a man who was a mess, but when the man was level and steady, he was as smooth as a boat sailing on a peaceful sea.

Cutting the waters gliding toward his heart—

Steve couldn’t help but inch forward and encircle James from behind to review the maps with him. He also snuck a couple of kisses in between.

Steve was like a large dog, James thought whenever the blond kissed him. A military canine, a stray. They could address each other with different monikers, and Steve was just as passionate and clingy. James found it both annoying and sweet. It was annoying because his siblings would make fun of them for being touch starved, even teenagers didn't behave like that. But it was also sweet because he had never felt the same passion for anyone else before. Come to think of it, Steve had probably come to that conclusion long before James did.

They were the one for each other. For the rest of their lives.

Finally, he could remove “maybe” from the sentence and believe it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“Not trying to give you any pressure, but—James,” Steve asked under his breath, “where is my humpback whale?”

“There’s no promise of seeing them.” Slightly irritated, the brunet slapped the hand on his waist. Squinting his eyes into a line, he took a pair of binoculars to search the sea. “And we have to keep our distance. If it’s a mother and her calf, we have to retreat even further, although I’m not see anything now—”

Steve took another set of binoculars and swiveled left and right. He seemed to have caught sight of something as he lowered his gaze to check the radar chart. He put his hand on James’ hands on the helm to help him adjust the direction of the yacht a little. “How far before we stop?”

“Rear flank.” Glancing at the direction Steve was positioning the yacht, James saw the whale. With his hands still in Steve’s, he adjusted their position slightly. “We have to navigate from the rear flank, low speed three hundred meters, idle speed one hundred meters.”

Soon enough, the gigantic mammal appeared in the distant waters before them. It was a mother and her calf. James halted one hundred meters before them and motioned Steve to go out and have a good look while he tended to the yacht.

Having spent so many years at sea, Steve had his fair share of watching pods of dolphins swimming and leaping next to the freight ship. But the speed of a freight ship was fast, taking a massive draft beneath the waters, and the engines were clamorous. Steve never had the opportunity to sight any large whales. These enormous underwater creatures appeared to be calm and peaceful. Thanks to the cloudless weather, Steve could easily see the baby whale diving its upturned tail into the waters, like a silver Y sinking into the sea.

“Do you always head out to sea to watch the whales?” Steve posed the question to James as the brunet walked toward him.

“When I was a kid.” James chuckled. “But the last time I did this was when I was twenty-two.”

“Is the Athena that old?” Because the condition of the yacht and the equipment on it didn't reflect the long years.

“The first Athena was a gift from Silas.” James turned around to lean on the railing. “The name was given by Rose.”

And Silas loathed the name. It was known in Greek mythology that Athena and Poseidon, god of the sea, were arch rivals. To name a yacht Athena would probably bring bad luck, but the Athena had braved the seas with him for so many years.

“I bought the second Athena myself.” James gestured at the hull. “The latest model from the same company.” Returning his gaze to Steve, James smiled. “You’re the first person who's not blood related to board the Athena.”

Bar Harbor wasn't his safe haven, the Athena was. Everyone thought he liked the little colonial town—which he did, it was the stratosphere where he could hide from the weight of reality—but the Athena was his true destination. He was a sailor before becoming a businessman, and he loved being a sailor more than being a businessman.

They had breakfast with the humpback whales without exchanging many words between them. The whales fed on plankton while the two men shared a bag of chips; which had James complaining about not being able to get ones as good as these in Europe.

Then they headed further north to a place not far from the shore to take shelter from a storm.

James made a run through of the yacht in his raincoat while Steve stayed inside to check the weather chart and estimated the storm was likely to go on for several hours. Before dropping the anchor, they confirmed that this point was an ideal natural harbor that could block the waves nearby. It was a little far from the town, but considering they didn't have enough time to get back to the harbor, it was the best place for them to be temporarily.

James returned to the cabin drenched and found himself immediately covered by a big towel that Steve had thrown at him. James dried his hair with the towel and hung up the raincoat. “It will probably rain for about three hours. The weather system in summer moves quickly, it won’t take long.”

For the time being, there was nothing much for them to do.

James peered at Steve, a devious smirk tugging the corner of his lips. Steve could guess what he had in mind from that sly smile.

And still Steve’s face was as red as a beet even though he was mentally prepared. It happened every time James straddled him.

The hands that were unbuttoning Steve’s shirt tugged at the collar requesting a kiss. Steve accepted passively. If this was a game, he'd never get the upper hand with James. The brunet sighed. He tried to explain tactfully that it was simply a matter of the difference in their experience. Steve didn’t like this argument, but had to admit it was credible.

“It may be the same thing, but the significance of who you do it with makes all the difference.”

James gathered that he would never hear the end of Steve’s jealousy on this issue and decided to make it perfectly clear to him: who they had been with was irrelevant, essentially they would be with each other till the end of the line. That was what mattered most.

The intensity of the rain reached its peak when they were finally done with the torturously slow removal of one other’s clothing and proceeded to exchange kisses.

Fat drops of rain hit on the porthole, and heavy dark clouds hung in the sky. The light in the cabin was obscure and dim.

They didn't turn on the light. James didn't like having Steve see his naked body and Steve knew that. But the funny thing was Steve was the one with scars, including one where a pirate had burnt him with the barrel of a gun that had just been fired. Yet James insisted on pulling the curtains tight even when they were making love in the daytime, as if he was afraid of a peeping tom. Truth was: he didn’t like to expose himself under the light.

But James’ body was beautiful and the color of his body hair was very light. In fact, he was more muscular than when they first slept together.

Unlike Steve, who ran and did crunches every morning, James wasn't the type who exercised regularly. Steve had only seen him when he went swimming. There was a club near the harbor where the Athena was docked and James sometimes swam there two or three times every week, or sometimes not at all for an entire week. Considering the frequency, James was doing a good job keeping his physique. There was no reason for him to feel inferior.

Usually, when they had both been pushed over the edge, Steve would plant kisses all over James’ body; but today with intermittent sun rays invading the cabin, the brunet was unwilling to cooperate.

“I don’t care if you have abs or not, James.” Steve was juggling between kissing James and avoiding the hands that were trying to cover his eyes.

“I’d rather you look at my abs.” James was more or less giving up. It had been four months and he couldn't hide forever. When Steve finally got to see what James had been keeping from him, he didn’t understand the reason for the secrecy. The rain had eased relatively and the sky was almost cleared up. Steve got a better view of the expanse of skin that hadn't been so obvious initially. It was a birthmark. Steve touched it, earning him a deadly stare from James.

“A butterfly. A very special shape.” Steve didn't see anything wrong with that. It was situated on his inner thigh and the color was light.

“Jasper also has one on his head,” James said softly. “It’s on the left, covered by his hair.”

“And the Barneses…” Steve noticed belatedly the wry smile on James’ face. “It’s your family crest.”

“Silas has one on his chest. He said it’s God’s guidance, chosen… bullshit…” James’ smile disappeared. He leaned forward earnestly and embraced Steve with all his weight. “Okay, the last thing I’ve been hiding from you has been revealed. We won’t talk about it ever. Silas, Barnes, Rose, everything.”

Steve caressed his waist. “They’re all part of you, they won’t go away even if we don’t talk about them.”

James pursed his lips. He knew Steve wasn't good at coaxing, but Steve accepted every part of him. “What about you?” he asked gently. “Is there anything else I should know about you?”

The time they had spent together wasn't long, but they tried to tell each other everything about themselves in the four months they’d been together. James had told Steve all that he could say. The death of his mother might forever be a mystery; but he had made a clean slate of everything that had ever hurt him. Thirty years in his life wasn't too long, but a man who was going to spend longer than that with him deserved every single mundane detail.

“Stark was my second foster home, I was adopted by Odinson after my foster father died in a car accident.” Steve kissed his neck. “You've seen my high school best friends, and we could have dinner with my teammates from the Special Forces someday, and…” He thought for a second. “I’ve yet to take you to see my mother. She’s buried at the Evergreen Cemetery in Brooklyn.”

They cuddled for quite a while. Steve didn't know how to tell James how much he loved this feeling, so he kept planting little kisses on James’ fingers, just like he did that first night, starting from his thumb, working slowly with every kiss.

He kissed the watch-shaped mark left by the sun on James’ wrist.

James had been wearing the Chopard watch to work recently. Steve knew that all the watches and art pieces that had been wandering on the ocean with James had been sold in exchange for the apartment in Geneva and the yacht. James made the decision to sever all ties with the Barneses’ history and chose a new identity and a new life. Interpol had initially objected to James’ decision to come out and see Steve at the school as it might have resulted in exposing James’ identity, thus negating his witness protection.

Steve tapped James’ fingers, which were resting on his chest. “We can go to Chicago from St. Lawrence River, pick up Jasper and Margaret, and visit the Great Lakes Region. I can teach them fishing.”

James smiled. He approved of this suggestion. “And then?”

“We can find a camp site. Camping is a must for summer vacation. It’d be fun.”

“And then?”

“Um, anything. We can do anything, the four of us. Together.”

“That sounds good.”

Before drifting into the steady arms of exhaustion, James remembered the last words he said.


End file.
